Behind the Veil
by thewhisperingwillowtree
Summary: Lyra is the perfect pureblood. She has the grace of her mother, the cunning of her father, and none of the madness her aunt had. But when her father embroils her in one of his plans it slowly forces Lyra to question everything she believes in. In the end she must choose, family or love? A Malfoy can never pick both. Rated M.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

* * *

Lrya Malfoy hated filth.

Not the dirt on the ground, but the people that were just as defiled. _Mudbloods_. Even the word left a wretched aftertaste in her mouth.

She stared down at her hands folded neatly in her lap, taking in the perfectly rounded tips of her fingernails and the light sheen coating them. She absently wondered what she would do when at Hogwarts when it came to personal maintenance. It was to be her first year, but even so a Malfoy could be seen as nothing less than perfect. No excuses.

"I'm sure you know I called you here about Hogwarts," her father deadpanned, staring calmly at her.

Lrya tilted her head slightly towards her father, keeping her face calm and void of emotions before giving a deft nod.

"Your mother and I will be taking you to Diagon Alley in a week's time. All your necessities will be accounted for then."

Lrya only shook her head again, arching a brow in question. Father wouldn't have pulled her aside just to say this. Normally everything was told to her brother, as heir of the family and being a year older.

"We have always told you that you were betrothed, but never said who. We decided now that you are going to Hogwarts you are to be informed of this, as your betrothed knows who you are and of this pact." He took a moment to readjust his collar thoughtlessly. "You are to marry the Flint boy."

Lyra couldn't help the face she made then. The reveal was shocking to say the least.

"I understand your worry," he said immediately. "But it was either him or Yaxley. I am not so cruel to do that to my only daughter, the blood of my being. Yaxley may be of the Sacred Twenty-Eight but he is old, to put bluntly. I do not think you could ever be happy with him, and with his penchant for cruelty I did not want to perchance it. Marcus Flint is of the Twenty-Eight, and only six years your senior. He is the only one _fit_ for a union with a Malfoy."

By her father's tone she could tell he was alluding to the blood traitors and mudblood lovers that were still in the Sacred- Twenty Eight. The Weasley's were impoverished, with more children than galleons to their name. Not to mention their garish hair color.

Then there was Amycus Carrows, who her father had not even deemed to mention even though he was neither of sullied blood or a traitor, thankfully. She had met Amycus once at the Christmas Ball her family held faithfully each year. She had been nine at the time, and at first been charmed by this older, if a bit rugged, man who had so eloquently kissed her hand and asked for a dance. It wasn't until they parted that their eyes met, his filled with scheming and murderous intent. It had frozen her where she stood and only after her father had placed his hand firmly on her shoulders and given her an out had she truly been able to flee. It could have been a horrible social faux, but thankfully her father had been watching her with keen eyes as always.

Neville Longbottom was a blood traitor, and if rumors were true a bumbling idiot. The Macmillan's were only a shadow of their former selves, reduced to being Hufflepuffs or obsessed with their studies. Sometimes both. It was a feat in itself that they were still purebloods. Luck had been kind to them. All the rest of their peers in the circle were either married, already had a betrothed, or merely inadequate. A Malfoy always got the best, and none of those options seemed optimal.

She thought about Marcus Flint, of his enormously large, crooked teeth and abhorrent posture. She figured he was as dumb as a rock, but at least he could be kind. She had seen him before, at parties and such. He had always watched her thoughtfully, and when she would catch him he would smile softly before breaking eye contact. His behavior had never made sense to her before, but now it did. The Flints were well off too. Nowhere near the Malfoy's wealth in galleons, but she would never become an indigent beggar like the Weasley's. Maybe she could get used to his teeth; maybe he wouldn't expect her to kiss him that much when they married.

"Do not be frightened. You will not wont for anything. You will still get the full Malfoy backing, and I will help Flint to find a Ministry job appropriate for his talents if needed. As for his appearance, I am sure it will improve after puberty. If not I'm sure there is a spell or two."

Once when Lyra had been listening through the door in her father's study, she overheard a French ambassador asking for a betrothal pact with the man's son to her. Father had politely declined, stating he already had plans for her. At first Lyra had been thankful. She didn't want to go and live in a foreign country, speaking a language that was not her first tongue. She would be far from her family, and all alone.

But then she began to wonder exactly what her father's plans were. It had worried her, and after nearly a week of restless nights she had gotten the courage to ask.

 _"Do not fret over such things. I would not allow you so far from home." Father reached his hand down, caressing her cheek softly. It had taken her by surprise. Her father rarely gave any of his family physical forms of affection. "Besides, I had already entered into a betrothal pact for you last year. When you are older and more mature I shall sit you down and tell you all about it."_

Apparently this day was today.

Lyra fought to stop herself from gnawing on her cheek, a nervous trait she had been waging war against for years to cure herself of. It was not appropriate. A Malfoy should never show emotions, because by showing them you gave your opponent a clear advantage. When you were a Malfoy everyone wanted something from you. Charity. Power. Glory.

Betrothals.

As far as she knew her brother was still free of the latter. Something she hoped was soon remedied. He was beginning to like that pug-faced girl a little too much.

"You have always been good at hiding your emotions, unlike your brother." He sighed in disgust, shaking his head with narrowed eyes. "He is too easy to bait. But you on the other hand, you have taken to my teachings very well."

She allowed herself a small smile, more of a smirk really. Her father did not hand out compliments easily and she could not help but feel pride at his comment.

"Thank you father," she said demurely, bowing her head.

He nodded, breathing in deeply. "This is why I've chosen you for this task. Your brother is incapable of hiding his true feelings, and prone to inappropriate bursts of emotions. I think you could easily hide your own if tasked to do so."

"I am capable of this father," she agreed in a good mood after his paid compliment.

Draco was often praised. Sometimes Lyra felt bereft and neglected because of that. He had always been favored because he was the future of the Malfoy's. Mother doted on him, and father bought him ludicrous things that he asked for such as wobby-planks nozzles that apparently helped with balancing on a broomstick, or a Foe-glass that he for some reason or another needed in order to deem how worthy people were before allowing them to enter into a friendship with him. Both completely useless things, but Draco could find a need for any small want. It seemed to be a talent of his.

"I thought as much." He stared at her thoughtfully, rubbing at his chin. "Cornelius Fudge has been abysmal at leading the Wizarding World. Not only does he allow the mudblood swine to thrive, but he encourages it. Traditional values have been pushed to the side, and more blood traitors and mudblood lovers are popping up than ever before. This needs to end, does it not?"

Lyra quickly agreed. She hadn't even realized all of this, not being an avid politics follower. She viewed it as Draco's job since he would be the future head of the House of Malfoy. Lyra was meant to be a housewife, to be pampered and to birth pureblood heirs. Her mother had told her so many years ago when she began to ask why her older brother got to go to so many places with their father while she was forced to stay home.

 _"There are good and bad things about this, my sweet. Do not dwell on the negatives. I had a sister who did that, and now she is my sister no more."_

 _"What do you mean?" Lyra asked curiously, her little fist balled as she attempted to stop from vibrating in excitement. Mother could only mean Aunt Bella. Lyra thought perhaps when someone went to Azkaban they stopped being your family, and when they got out you gained them back. Mother didn't talk much about Aunt Bella, so anything she heard about this mysterious woman was exciting for her._

 _"She was disowned, burned right off the family tree. What was once three is now two, and it is sad indeed."_

Her stomach still plummeted when thinking about it. The woman must have been horrible to be disowned, for that was the severest punishment of all. Over the years her mind had cooked up a plethora of things that aunt could be. She had grown to hate this invisible, absent woman who had abandoned her family for something as trivial as love. Family was what mattered, and this woman who had no name for Lyra's tongue to speak had abandoned them all for it.

"If I told you to be civil to mudbloods, could you do it?"

Lyra swallowed thickly, her mouth suddenly feeling parched. "I could."

He nodded as if that could have been her only answer, as if he expected it of her. That sinking feeling entered her again, making her feel physically ill.

"Could you do it for a length of time, perhaps years even?"

"I would do anything for you father."

Loyalty was deeply ingrained in her. For Lyra's entire life she had always been told family was the most important thing. She would do anything her father asked her, anything.

"Good, then I need you to be sorted into Gryffindor."

* * *

Hello everyone! This is my first Harry Potter fanfic, so I'm really excited! I haven't finished writing it so I'm not sure how long it's going to be, but I'm currently on chapter 18 and by my estimates a little before the half mark in my story. I'm assuming I'll have thirty-something chapters by the time I finish. Possibly more depending on how I want to finish writing the last few chapters. I am thinking the rating will eventually go up to M. I would also like to thank my lovely beta DonghaeLevi for helping me edit my story.

 **Warnings:** character death and violence; if anything else comes up I'll post a warning in the beginning of the chapter before

 **Disclaimer:** JK Rowling owns her characters and the HP world

 **Beta:** DonghaeLevi


	2. Chapter 2

Ch 2

* * *

Lyra held tightly onto her trunk with her back ramrod straight, and a beauty book clutched in her left arm. She had to keep up appearances, and after asking her mother about how to keep up personal hygiene at Hogwarts her mother suggested this. Lyra had been pouring over it ever since. The house elves and her mother would no longer be there to style her hair or do her nails. She was on her own.

Draco stood next to her, a scowl fixated on his face. To say the least, he was not very pleased with her father's plan. In fact, her brother had fought him tooth and nail against it. Draco couldn't be seen associating with a _Gryffindor_. It would be unseemly.

But father had remained firm, refusing to budge about this matter. Father wanted to appear more diplomatic to the masses. He already had all the purebloods in his pocket, what he needed was some of the working class too. He hadn't been willing to disclose too much to his eleven year old daughter, but she did understand her father had some type of plan to undermine Fudge. Of course, this would take years to accomplish. Until then, she would have to suck it up and sleep with mudbloods in her room. She only hoped they didn't touch her things.

"How are you going to trick the hat?" her brother murmured, leaning back against the seat on the train in the most undignified way. Lyra didn't understand how her father could allow such behavior from him. At least Draco didn't do it in public.

"I'm not," she said, waving farewell to her parents from the window. "Father told me that is impossible. I have to convince the hat that I want to be in Gryffindor. That's all I can do."

Her brother huffed and remained in a bad mood until his friends entered the compartment. Theodore Nott gave her a respectful nod before sitting next to her brother and starting up a conversation.

As time went on and more Slytherin's began to arrive, it became apparent that they would not include her. Not without Draco's encouragement. She felt a bit miffed about that.

"I'm going to find another room Draco. I'm leaving my stuff here."

He didn't give her much of a response, making a hand gesture to show he heard her. She sighed and leaned against the door with a frown once it was closed. This was not going as she had always hoped.

Since she was a little girl and had found out about Hogwarts, all she could think about was all the fun she would have. She would be in Slytherin where she belonged, with all her friends around her. She was going to be happy and she would practically be royalty.

It was apparent to her none of this was going to happen. It wasn't fair. Lyra always got stuck with the worst tasks and Draco was always going scott-free. She couldn't understand it.

On a rational level she could. She could control her emotions better than Draco. But that didn't explain why Lyra was always second no matter how much she tried. She knew even if she were successful it would not be any better. It was _expected_ of her to succeed. If Draco was given this mission and botched it up, her father would have brushed it off as an unsuccessful attempt. If Lyra messed up he would give her that look he rarely gave her, the one that didn't match the words coming out his mouth. He would tell her it's alright and she tried, but his eyes would tell her that she was a failure.

She _loathed_ that look.

She always did everything in her power not to see it. It was worse than anything he could ever say or do to her. Every time she was on the receiving end of it she would hurry to the refuge of her room where she never had to pretend and cry for hours. Her mother had caught her once and that had shamed her even more. It made her feel childish, especially after she found out her mother had told father because the next day he spoke to her and said that everything was fine and not to worry.

Her father had said she could be friends with the Slytherin's as long as it didn't impede with her mission. Which meant at first she would be on her own. She took a deep breath in, gathering whatever bravery sat inside her and put on her façade. She couldn't be emotionless with the Gryffindor's. She knew it was one of the many things they hated about pure bloods.

Her year was lacking in pureblood children in general. There was Ginny Weasley, who Lyra would hopefully be able to form a pretense of a friendship with. Ginny may be a blood traitor but at least she was a pureblood. Then there was Luna Lovegood, who although not part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight was considered pure. Of course, Lyra would have to be friends with some half-bloods too to keep up appearances. The only prominent half-blood she knew that was entering her year was Zacharias Smith. Lyra only knew of him because of the rumor circulating around that he was somehow related to Helga Hufflepuff. His family on his mother's side was pureblood two generations ago. Lyra would just have to focus on that and the fact that at least the Smiths hadn't directly married a mudblood.

Her prospects were not looking good at this moment.

Sometimes she wanted to hate her brother for how good he had it. He had father's favor, was in Slytherin, wasn't betrothed, nor had to make up a farce and pretend to love the people he actually abhorred. She wanted to shake him, telling him to wake up and realize just how great his life was.

But then she stopped daydreaming and realized she'd never do that. An outburst like that would be shameful. Not to mention it would probably hurt her brother. Despite how much Draco tried to deny it, he was emotionally sensitive. Usually when he was hurt his first reaction was anger, which was less disgraceful than showing pain. Sometimes it felt like she was the older sibling watching out for him instead of the reverse.

Deciding her best bet was Luna Lovegood, she went in search of the only other known platinum blonde that she would go into Hogwarts with. Nearly a half hour later, she found the eccentric girl reading a magazine upside down with a pair of strange wired glasses. Lyra grimaced, wishing to be anywhere but here, before opening the door.

"Do you mind if I sit here?" Lyra asked meekly, not meeting the strange girl's gaze. She had to perfect her new persona after all.

"Of course. I'm sitting alone so you can have that whole bench. Watch out for the Snouzers though. They like nibbling on knee high socks. Snouzers find them quite pungent," Luna said airily.

Lyra blinked, at this point worrying for her own safety. The girl was obviously deranged. But when Lyra attempted to duck out of the door she saw a pair of Weasley twins yelling rambunctiously down the hall that they had 'cursed a slimy Slytherin' and decided to take her chances with the lesser of two evils.

She gathered herself quickly, sitting down as far as she could from the girl near the window and patting out the wrinkles of her skirt.

"I hear your mother was a wonderful inventor. Very… imaginative."

"Oh, yes. She was," Luna answered, letting the magazine hover beneath her chin before pulling it back up to eye level. "She created the Grow-Your-Own-Warts kit, and the first model of the Quibbler Dispenser." Luna's brows frowned, the only thing Lyra could see over the newspaper. "You're a Malfoy, right? A Blibbering Humdinger told me a Malfoy would be joining my year, but you can never be too sure about them. They're known fibbers."

"Yes," Lyra replied, unsure of what else to say and completely overwhelmed.

"Both of my parents were in Ravenclaw so I'm expecting to be there too. What about you? Are you planning on Slytherin?"

"Well," Lyra said, planning her words carefully. "I'm not sure what to expect. I've always been a bit different from my family." That should do.

Luna peered over the edge of the magazine, Lyra's ice blue meeting Luna's silvery grey. Lyra realized for the first time that if no one knew any better the two of them could be mistaken as family. Her brother and father had grey eyes, and all three of them shared the pale skin and white blonde hair color trait. Luna and Lyra even had the same cheek bones.

But that was where the similarities ended. Lyra had a heart shaped face, while Luna's was more long and pointed. Luna's face was thinner than hers too, with lighter colored eyebrows to complete the look.

"Maybe we'll end up in the same house."

Hopefully not. Lyra wasn't sure she'd be able to sleep fitfully next to the peculiar girl next to her.

The boat ride to the castle was a boring affair. After such a trying day Lyra just wanted everything to be over with. She was already used to grandeur. None of this impressed her. The castle was much more striking with its jagged peaks, moving stairs, and famed hidden passageways. She could practically feel the magic that had been imbedded into the castle over the centuries.

It was very possible she was making up feeling that magic in her excitement, but Lyra didn't care. She looked over the paltry amount of boats and frowned. The Wizarding War had been going on for a few years in when she was born. As a result less people were having children at that time and it wasn't until the war ended that people began to have more.

It looked like no more than twenty students were coming to Hogwarts with her. There were a few familiar faces. Rachel Bulstrode was in her year, who was overly large with dark hair and scowling features. Lyra had always avoided the girl because of the scandal that was her older sister Millicent. Rachel's mother had slept with a half-blood, resulting in an out of wedlock pregnancy. Soon after Millicent was born the family hurried to marry their daughter to the highest bidder. It was a safe to say Rachel and Millicent's mother got the worst of the crop. Rachel was to be the heir of the Bulstrodes despite being the second child, since Rachel was of pure blood. They couldn't allow half-bloods to continue on the family name, after all.

Draco had pressed to Lrya all summer how much he hated St. Potty and his weasel and mudblood friend. Her brother stressed to her all through the summer about how he understood that she was to be in Gryffindor, but there was absolutely no way he would have a sister that was friends with the likes of those three. Lyra didn't think it would be a problem seeing as they were in the year above her, but didn't comment. He was already irritated about having to associate with a Gryffindor, let alone having a Gryffindor family member.

Lyra wasn't sure how many people were aware of the plan. Obviously her family, and probably the family she was betrothed to. It was always alarming when a pure blood got into Gryffindor, and the Flints may just cancel the betrothal because of it. Father had to have explained it to them. As her father had said before, there weren't many options for the Malfoy's to choose from regarding betrothals and losing Marcus would be a tough cut.

She blocked out Professor McGonagall as the stern teacher told her speech, not interested in the slightest about the rules and regulations of Hogwarts. What she was listening to were the whispers about Harry Potter and the Weasley boy not being at the feast. Her brother would be delighted. Maybe the Golden Boy would be expelled, or not even come at all. She would never hear the end of it.

When the overly large doors opened to welcome the first years Lrya began feeling the stirrings of doubt. What if she couldn't accomplish this? What if she did and couldn't keep up her façade? She took a deep breath in, steadying herself.

She attempted to listen to the song the sorting hat was sprouting, but her mind was racing with too many thoughts. She didn't want to disappoint her father. She wanted to make him proud. She had to get in Gryffindor. It was the only option. Her only chance at grace.

"BULSTRODE, RACHEL," the deputy headmistress called out.

The girl strode up to the wooden chair confidently, the hat not sitting on her head more than ten seconds before calling out, "SLYTHERIN."

Burke, Peter was next. They were a family of purebloods that were known for being great duelist. Not part of the Sacred Twenty Eight, but they held their own in pureblood politics. More often than not the Burkes were adventurers, the second or third sons always running off to some nondescript land to slay an overly zealous creature. It was how the family had risen amongst their peers. It was no surprise when the sorting hat called out Slytherin for him.

Next a girl named Mary Caldweather went up to the hat, her eyes frightened but filled with determination. Lyra couldn't help but feel dismayed when it called out Gryffindor. She was almost certain the girl was a mudblood, which meant she would have to share a room with her. Lyra's apprehension only continued when Colin Creevy was called up and put in Gryffindor.

There were a few Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws named afterwards. Lyra hadn't paid enough attention after that, too distracted by the filth that was to be her future house. This task was beginning to feel improbable.

"MALFOY, LYRA."

Lyra steadied her resolve, the tightening of her lips the only proof of her inner turmoil. The shabby looking hat was placed on her head, and she couldn't help but wonder the last time it had gone through a wash.

" _Ah, another Malfoy_ ," it said, clucking at her. " _You have much determination, just like your brother. Cunning too._ "

" _Not Slytherin_ ," she whispered, her hands clenching the stool beneath her tightly.

" _Not Slytherin, eh? Someone said something similar last year. He was placed in Gryffindor. You_ _would do_ _wonderfully in Slytherin. Maybe Hufflepuff, for the loyalty you feel towards your family."_

 _"Gryffindor_ ," she said adamantly, her tone breaking no argument.

The hat sighed dourly before huffing, " _Well if you insist. It better be_ GRYFFINDOR!"

Silence filled the hall after the proclamation. Shortly after she felt the hat tugged off of her head, all eyes were on her. But Lrya was born in the limelight. She was used to the stares. Lyra never faltered as the whispers filled the air, a few of her housemates giving a polite clap to welcome her into their fold. She sat down at the bench and brushed her hair behind her back, allowing herself to meet her brother's eyes and smirk. Draco would have never been able to do that. He wasn't strong enough to feel so many people's hatred on him, especially without any lackey's backing him up.

"My name is Mary. I'm a first year like you," the girl next to her said. Mary gave her a winning, if a bit hesitant smile, sticking her hand out for Lyra to shake.

Lyra's resolve waivered as she stared down at the proffered hand. Shake hands with a mudblood? If her grandfather were still alive he would be bursting every blood vessel in his beloved body, probably attempting to beat her with that cane of his too.

"Lyra," she said finally, grasping the girl's fingertips and giving it a short shake as Vane, Romilda was called out. "Are you… muggleborn?"

"What is that?"

Well that answered her question.

"It means you have no magical family."

"Oh, yes. I'm the first in my family. We were so shocked to hear about Hogwarts, but then everything sort of made sense. I had always been able to do strange things."

Romilda Vane sat next to her, letting out a loud sigh as she smiled at them. "I guess we're going to be dorm mates."

Their last member, Ginevra Weasley, was called, completing the Gryffindor females for the year. She looked around at the members. Ginny Weasley was getting along well with Mary, although kept sending Lyra suspicious looks. No doubt for the trouble her father and brother had caused Ginny's family this year at Diagon Alley. Romilda was talking off Lyra's ear next to her, speaking of the most mundane things. It could have been worse, she thought attempting to stay positive. At least it was only one mudblood.

She stared over at the Ravenclaw table where Luna was sitting. A girl named Rebecca Rounge was sitting next to her and from the look on her face Lyra could tell the girl was beginning to realize just how weird Luna Lovegood was. Lyra wished her father had said Ravenclaw. She could have dealt with Luna's oddities, and Rounge was a half blood. It would have been better over there, where the only gossip was what their studies for the year would be like, and how Hannah Abbot had been falling behind the year before.

But a Malfoy was meant for great things, so being in Gryffindor would surely be a stepping stone in her life.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

* * *

Her brother was ashamed of her.

He wasn't willing to speak to her in public. Instead, they conversed through owls and strategically placed messages. The shame of having a Gryffindor in the family was too much for him to bear, although she noticed he didn't allow his peers to make fun of her like they did some of the other Gryffindor's.

If she were honest with herself, it hurt. Their relationship wasn't the best, but he was her brother. Malfoys were far and few, and when all they could place their trust in was each other, every single one of them counted. She couldn't confide in her parents, that wouldn't be proper. But her brother she could.

But it was hard to do that when he was avoiding her.

She allowed herself to look as she felt because for the first time it would only help gain her allies. Ginny was still wary of her, but the red head had been there when Lyra had called out to her brother in the hall. He had only glanced back to give her a hard look before muttering to his loons to keep going. She had almost cried then, but managed to remain strong. She was a Malfoy. Malfoys didn't cry.

At least not in front of people.

It didn't help when she found out she all but failed at the womanly arts. Her normally pristine condition had deteriorated, with locks of hair rebelling to stay a-wire and nails chipping like paint off an ancient wall, not as luminescent as they once were. She poured over the book her mother gave her, even placing it above her own learning. It wasn't until Romilda took pity on Lyra that she began to look at least satisfactory. Lyra had never worn a headband, but they worked wonders on her hair. As headbands seemed to be Romilda's quintessential look, Lyra had later traded it for a ribbon. She had sneaked down to the house elves shortly after, forcing them to teach her how to French braid and make perfect buns. She finally figured out the spell to keep her nails intact, but that was only after her grades had taken a turn for the worse. Her father had offered her an out after hearing of her grades, asking if she would prefer to be home schooled. But Lyra couldn't give everything up now. She had even managed to find a balance with the mudblood in her room. They both avoided each other for the most part once Mary had caught onto the fact that she wasn't very high on Lyra's list of favored people. But they were still polite to each other.

It had taken Lyra almost an entire semester to adapt. She was lacking in her grades because of this, and she hurriedly attempted to catch up before the semester closed.

"Professor Lockhart has re-opened the Dueling Club," Romilda said wonderingly.

"I think we should go," Ginny stated strongly, nodding as if it were final and they already had agreed on this. Lyra found very quickly that Ginny was quick to anger, and because of this Lyra was quiet more often than not around the red head. Ginny wouldn't hesitate to get into a scuffle, but Lyra would. Lyra was an average witch at best, much to her dismay, and Ginny was amazing at charms. Especially jinxes.

But lately something had been going on with the rebellious girl. Ginny had been pouring over some decrepit journal night and day, and would snip at anyone who questioned her about it. She had been getting more and more on edge lately, her eyes blood shot with deep purple bags underneath. Right now Ginevra was having a good moment and seemed to be her normal self, but those times were getting farther and fewer as the year progressed.

Lyra turned to write her name on the list, pausing when she saw Draco's. She gnawed on the inside of her cheek, glaring at the paper as if it would remedy itself of this name. He probably boasted about putting his name on it, mentioning how he was likely to be one of the best. He had a knack for saying things like that. It wouldn't bother her if it were true, then he could gloat all he wanted. Draco was better than her, but not _the best_. That would somehow go to the know-it-all mudblood in his year, Hermione Granger. Despite Draco's best efforts she always beat him.

Lyra was doing better at her studies now that she was actually studying. Instead of getting Acceptable's and the occasional Poor, she was getting Exceeds Expectation's too. It was nowhere near where she was supposed to be, but she had missed many of the basics in the beginning due to her appearance and was still struggling in her schooling. Lyra hoped during the winter break to remedy this. She still had all her notes. She would take her books home with her too and hopefully get caught up.

The Dueling Club was everything she expected it to be. Lockhart was a pompous fool, no matter what Romilda said. Her friend went back and forth between her obsession for Harry Potter and their scatter brained Defense teacher, placing one higher than the other depending on the day, mood, and current outfit they were wearing. Today Lyra supposed Lockhart had won. Even after her brother's godfather had easily disarmed the useless professor Romila remained strong, stating it must be an off day for him.

It wasn't until Professor Snape called out Draco and the Potter boy that she began to get nervous. Her brother taunted Potter the whole time, at least until Potter started speaking Parseltongue.

"Potter couldn't have opened the chambers, could he?" Mary asked full of doubt. More often than not Mary had worried about the Chamber's reopening. As a mudblood, Mary was more likely to be attacked. Lyra had hoped for this, the world could do with a few less mudbloods. But so far Lyra's wishes had not been answered.

"Harry didn't open the chambers," Ginny said quietly, not meeting anyone's eyes.

"What do you mean?"

"I just- I know him, okay? He wouldn't do that. Just take my word for it," she demanded with an angry huff.

But Lyra had her doubts. There were already so many whispers about one of the Malfoy's having opening it. Having Potter in the limelight like this would only help her, and Lyra was all about self-preservation.

Things got better for her after that. There were no more heated glares sent her way, and she was pulled even further into their friendly circle. If anything, it was Ginny Weasley who was distancing herself.

The girls told her strange things, atypical things, like their wishes for the future and all about their families. They even told her things that were normally not spoken of, like when Romilda said that her father had cheated on her mother. It confused Lyra that these people held such implicit trust in her when they hadn't even known each other for more than a years' time.

"We've heard a lot about us, but never about you. Tell us something," Romilda whispered on their last night before Christmas break. All of them were still talking despite the late hour. Lyra was reading her Potion's book, but she was listening.

"Like what?" Lyra asked uncertainly.

"Something you've never told anyone. You know about my dad, and how Mary likes Daniel McGee. We even heard Ginny tell us about what it's like to be the only girl and the last of seven kids. Tell us about you. We still don't know very much."

Lyra frowned, staring down at her book unseeing. She had dreaded this day would come, and knew she couldn't push it off any longer. They would begin to not trust her, and Lyra couldn't afford that.

"Sometimes I hate my brother."

There. It was out in the open never to be taken back. Lyra had never told a soul this, but she somehow knew that these girls would never tell her secret. "I have never wanted for anything. I would only ask and then receive. But no matter how hard I try I'm always second best."

Lyra stared down into her lap, her pale hair making a curtain between herself and those in the room. "I'll never be better than Draco. It's not fair. I'm their child too. They should love me just as much as they love him, but they don't. Draco always gets to go with father. When I ask my father he always tells me that it's men's business, or to wait till I'm older. When Draco messes up it's okay, but when I do it I'm a disappointment. Father _smiles_ at Draco. I never get a smile, just a well done. I just wish-"

She wished for a lot of things. But they would never happen. She didn't _really_ hate her brother, but sometimes she got so angry with him that she couldn't stand to speak with him. Draco never realized she was mad in these instances, she was too good at hiding it and being a good pureblood girl. She thought perhaps her mother had a hunch, but had never questioned Lyra about it.

"I'm in the same boat," Ginny muttered morosely. "My brothers have already done everything great. Charlie is a _dragon tamer_. There's not many people who can say that. Bill was head boy and Percy is following in his footsteps. Fred and George are funny and able to invent wonderful things, and Ron is best friends with the Boy-Who-Lived. What is left for me?"

"You're the only girl. You should at least get _some_ leeway," Mary commented.

"Oh, I do. Sometimes I do things I know my brothers would get in trouble for, but all my parents do is yell at me. I just wish I could be great like them," Ginny sighed.

"Father always told me Malfoy's are supposed to be great, but I'm not sure if I am anymore," Lyra admitted. Maybe this was what her father had seen in her this entire time. "I don't even know why I kid myself. I was always meant to be the perfect pureblood wife," she scoffed, suddenly angry with her chosen lot in life.

"What do you mean?" Mary asked. Lyra hesitated, gnawing on the inside of her cheek.

"Purebloods are expected to do things, at least traditional purebloods are," Ginny explained. "They're bound by a decorum made thousands of years ago, and most have betrothal pacts and alliances among each other."

"Betrothal pacts," Mary sputtered, shock written on her face. "But that's so…" she trailed off, halting at the look on Lyra's face. "You're not betrothed, are you?"

"Yes," Lyra answered, after a beat. "Of course, my brother isn't." He always got everything he wanted.

"To who?" Romilda asked curiously.

"Marcus Flint."

All of them blanched at her words.

"But Flint is so…" Mary winced, unable to finish his sentence.

"You're going to go through with it?" Ginny asked, a strange look on her face.

"He's a good choice," Lyra defended. "He's of the Sacred Twenty-Eight and the only one acceptable in my age range."

That then opened up more questions from Mary about exactly what the Twenty- Eight was.

"Most of those families have died out. A few of them attend this school. Malfoy's are of course on the list," Lyra murmured. "The Bulstrodes, Flints, Greengrasses, Longbottoms, Macmillan's, Notts, Parkinson's, and Weasley's are on it too. Nott would have been a good choice, but he's had a pact with Daphne Greengrass since they were born."

"What's wrong with Ernie Macmillian then? He's only a year older." Mary questioned.

Lyra straightened, clenching her fist in her lap. "Father says he is not appropriate."

"It could be worse though, right? At least you're not betrothed to Crabbe or Goyle. You would be doomed then," Romilda giggled, falling back on her bed.

Lyra couldn't help but smile. Marcus Flint was much better than those two, although it wasn't like the two buffoons were ever an option.

* * *

I wanted to take a quick moment to thank the guest for reviewing my last chapter. I posted early for you!


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

* * *

Much to her parents surprise Lrya studied throughout the entire holiday. She could tell her behavior had alarmed her mother, but her father readily agreed with her. Lyra's grades had been abysmal this marking period and not worthy of the Malfoy name. There were no congratulations on getting into Gryffindor on his part. Just as she thought; it had been _expected_.

It did seem like she was catching up. At least, she was understanding the theories of magic better. The only subject she was really struggling in was Herbology. All of it seemed to be hands on, so Lrya wasn't really sure if she was even learning anything except little tidbits of knowledge about the occasional arbitrary plant.

As much of a bumbling idiot Neville was, he was good at Herbology. Great even. Perhaps if she asked Neville Longbottom he would explain more about the subject. But she wasn't sure. Neville stuttered so much it was likely to drive her insane.

"How has Hogwarts been?" her father asked one night at dinner.

"Horrible, scar head and his minions have been intolerable this year," Draco complained, glaring into his food.

Her father nodded, directing his attention towards Lyra. Lucius Malfoy was used to the rantings of his son when it came to Harry Potter, so this was nothing new.

"Passable. I've been forced to be in a dormitory with a mudblood. I make due," she answered him.

Her father smiled lightly. "Your resilience is very commendable Lrya."

Lrya's brows rose in shock as she stared at her father. Had he really just complimented her?

"It seems more like she's best friends with her," Draco growled, stabbing his food and ruining her good mood.

"I have to be," she snarled. "They would notice if I was friends with everyone but a mudblood."

It was apparent that he hadn't thought of that, but continued to scowl in distaste. Her father frowned deeply, watching the two of his children. "You two are not at odds, are you? Family is all you have."

Draco and Lyra stared at each other silently, neither willing to answer.

"You two are brother and sister. You're supposed to love and take care of each other," their mother murmured demurely.

"Love isn't important," Lyra said immediately. "Family is."

Narcissa arched a brow at her. "Why do you think family is important?"

"Because they're all we can trust."

"And why is that?"

"Because… because we were born with them and grew up together?" The more her mother asked the more Lyra became confused. She knew family was first. What did love have to do with it?

"Family is important because we love each other," Draco said softly, staring at her almost bashfully through lowered lashes.

"That is right Draco," their mother said, taking a dainty sip of her expensive red wine. "Family will always be there for each other because there will always be love between them."

"I know I do not say it often," Lucius added, watching his children warily. "But I do love you. I love all of you. Never doubt that."

Lyra's muscles clenched in the attempt to keep any emotions off of her face. Lyra felt lied to. Her whole life she had heard love didn't matter, that family did. Now they decided to say love was important? It couldn't be both. You couldn't pick and choose, or decide to change the rules once the game had already started.

"You said love didn't matter father. You're always saying that," she stated firmly.

"When I say love, I mean the silly little romances kids have between one another in school and the love between friends. I thought you knew that," her father said, staring unblinking into her eyes with a hint of worry.

"Sweet heart, do you think you do not love us?" She felt her mother's hand be placed directly on top of hers. Her mother was frowning, making Narcissa's pretty pout become upturned and eyebrows scrunched. Mother rarely made facial expressions, saying she'd rather not get premature wrinkles. This must have been serious for her to forget that.

They were her family. She couldn't love her family. Love and family were separate things. She had never felt love before, not even the stirrings of a crush. How could they expect her to suddenly love them?

But was that really true? She was beginning to realize she didn't know exactly what love was because nothing came to mind when she dug deeper about the feeling.

"I don't know," she said, nearly in tears at the realization. "I don't know if I love anyone."

"Oh my sweet, you do love us." Narcissa pulled her daughter into her arms, wrapping her tightly in a warm cocoon and placing her head on top of Lyra's. "I've seen your love before. You love Draco very much. Do you remember the day your brother learned to fly? You were so proud of him, and the love shined right through your eyes! And before you learned to hide your emotions so well you used to walk around with stars in your eyes for your father. You love, my sweet. Never doubt that."

She knew it was shameful to cry, but she couldn't help it. Not with her mother holding her so tightly and father giving her that understanding look. Not with Draco appearing sick at the realization of exactly how confused his little sister really was. She sniffled, holding back the loud sobs fighting to come out of her throat. She would not disgrace herself even further than she already had. Another hand placed itself on her shoulder but she was unwilling to look. She didn't want anyone to see the evidence of her tears.

The scent of her father's expensive cologne filled the air before she felt a kiss on the side of her head, a hand running through her golden strands before parting.

"We love you Lyra. Families love and support each other. That's what family is for."

* * *

The annual ball was going off without a hitch as always. Crystals gleamed from the ceilings and fairies fluttered about them. She knew it had been very expensive to get the miniscule creatures, but her mother would hear nothing about the cost. A Malfoy always got what they wanted, at least when it came to physical things.

The conversation with her family had only left her brain more addled. If family would always love each other, then why did she only have one aunt instead of two? Was it because her nameless aunt had decided love over family? If love and family could intertwine, how could anyone know which was more important?

Then there was Marcus Flint, her future husband. Was she expected to love him, or just their children? Did being married really count as being a family? How could one trust that their betrothed had their best interest at heart?

She didn't want to ask her mother. Narcissa had already taken to watching her youngest carefully, fretting over every little thing. Even her father appeared pensive. Draco had all but smothered her, making sure to speak with her every day and even hugged her one afternoon. It was strange. She couldn't understand this new family. All Lyra could do was hide behind her perfected mask like everything was okay, because that was the only option.

"You look beautiful, like the fairies flying in the air tonight," a voice said from behind her.

She turned immediately, straightening when she realized it was her betrothed. He appeared uncomfortable in his dress robes, tugging at the collar and sleeves every few moments. She realized if he fixed his posture and kept his mouth closed he wasn't really all that bad looking.

"Thank you Marcus. That is very kind. You look very fit." She smiled, a carefully measured smile meant for the politics of the higher class. It gave nothing away, and did not tell whether or not she had been charmed by his comment.

"Thank you," he said grinning. It was evident he had not been taught about pureblood interactions and how to handle them, because he was practically beaming. She held back her wince, forcing herself to get accustomed to Marcus Flint's teeth. She would spend the rest of her life with them after all.

"You did an amazing job at Quidditch this season," she added demurely. "Slytherin has a better team with you on it." It didn't hurt to revert to flattery. This was her first conversation with her betrothed and she wanted it to go well. He had left her alone at Hogwarts so far, instead watching her carefully throughout the year.

"You are too kind, Lyra. Too kind." The smile never slid off his face. Finally she turned away from him to watch the crowd. She would have to find a good spell for his teeth when they got married. The yellow color to them was disturbing. She could deal with everything else.

Hopefully she would grow taller. Otherwise she would look like a child next to him. Marcus Flint was muscular, and quite tall in stature. She really would appear to be like some type of fairy next to him if she didn't hit a growth spurt.

"I don't know what you've heard about me, but I wanted to assure you that I will always take care of you. I would never allow anyone to place a finger on you," he promised her.

Lyra had heard many things about her betrothed since beginning school. She had heard he was a bully, and enjoyed making people feel small and hurting them. He seemed to have confused brawn with brain, as whenever he could not figure something out he would resort to violence. She had once listened on as a Hufflepuff girl stated that Marcus Flint must have troll blood in him. He was tall and hulking, with coarse, black hair and a face none too pleasing. And as always, there were the large, crooked, yellow teeth that sat in his mouth.

But he had never hurt her, and that was what she cared about. He had always watched her from afar as she grew, what she could only call patiently waiting. As long as he didn't cause her pain she didn't care about the rest. Some purebloods were cruel to their wives, believing women below them and there to please whatever whim they had. Yaxley and Avery were like that, both still bachelors. One couldn't particularly say Amycus Carrow would be cruel to his wife, only cruel to everyone around him. The man did not discriminate, and there was no guessing what he and his sister enjoyed doing in their free time together. Probably pulling apart cute little Puffskein in some dark corner of their manor.

She wouldn't have been able to stand it if she was partnered with one of those choices. She would have rather died, as that would have been her fate with them anyways.

But Marcus, he was possible. He may be cruel to others, but never to his friends or family. Or would the correct word be loved ones? She wasn't sure, but she could live with a man like that.

* * *

I like to answer all the reviews left to me, so if a guest ever reviews I will answer them in the next chapter.

Guest Reviews:

Guest #1- After only three chapters you wouldn't know where I'm going haha it's going to be 30+. I'm starting to think 40+ with how long it's taking me to write out her fourth year. It took me a few read through's to get what I think you were saying, and I'm still not sure if I do. But yes, for the most part JKR's character's will stay the same. I only expand on some characters, like Lucius and Draco as you mentioned. I think you're saying adding Lyra will change his personality? Not really, you only get more of an inside view of the Malfoy family. What I walked away with after HPatDH is that although the Malfoy family isn't the sweetest or nicest or best overall people in the world, they care deeply for each other. They may not show it in front of people, but they do. Perhaps after you read it you going something different, which is completely possible. I'm not sure about the Mary Sue comment. But if you think this is a Mary Sue story then that is your opinion and I respect it. The last three sentences I don't really understand, so I cannot answer them. I don't really get a lot of long reviews, so thank you for spending the time to do so!

Guest #2- I've already written up to chapter 26 and I feel like adding more stuff into the story will only take away from the story. But don't be disappointed! I have included some of that already! Some of it is actaully in this chapter haha. Thanks for the trimester comment. I'm trying to keep some of HP's known British vernacular but I'm completely American haha I'm trying my best though!


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

* * *

The train ride back to Hogwarts went without a hitch, as did the first week of classes. Lyra could finally relax when she realized the things her teachers were saying finally made sense to her. There was nothing she could do about Herbology, it seemed she was destined to be a poor student when it came to that subject.

"What have muggleborns done?" Lyra asked one evening to her fellow dorm mates.

Lyra had never heard of any muggleborn that had amounted to much of anything. They had always brought the wizarding world down.

"Well there's Nobby Leach, the first muggle born prime minister." At Lyra's shock face, Ginny asked, "What? You've never heard of him? Your grandfather often held business with him. I'm surprised he was never mentioned by him."

Her grandfather interacted with a mudblood without being _coerced_? But he hated mudbloods even more than her father did. He was always going on about how mudbloods were the bane of his existence and were no good and completely useless, working spells through stolen magic and sheer, dumb luck. Lyra was pretty sure no one hated mudbloods more than Abrahax Malfoy, not even Salazar Slytherin himself.

"There's Donaghan Tremlett, the bass player for the Weird Sisters," Romilda added with a giggle, staring at the Weird Sister's poster above Ginny's bed. "He attended Hogwarts too. My cousin went to school with him."

"Anna Malone too. She's on the Hornets," Ginny added.

"And Emeline Tramine. She invented the modernized broom," Mary said softly, hugging her pillow tightly to her chest.

"I didn't know that," Ginny murmured, staring at Mary.

"Oh yes, I read it when I was still trying to figure out how Quidditch worked."

The conversation continued on, but Lyra was still astounded by what she had learned. They continued to list mudblood after mudblood, even adding Hermione Granger who people were already calling the witch of the age.

Father had always said that mudbloods were useless and only pulled down society, but they had been contributing to it all along.

She began to watch all the muggleborns in her year after that. There was Jason Samuels, a blonde haired Ravenclaw always spouting about how he wanted to be a healer when he grew up. He made good marks in class, better than hers for sure, and more often than not knew any answer the teacher's asked in class. Collin Creevy was an odd one, obsessed with taking pictures. He had once even snuck a picture of her, blushing when she gave him a severe look. He only said her profile had been pretty with the fire roaring behind her before scurrying off. Daniel McGee, another Gryffindor, didn't seem to do much of anything. He liked hanging out with his friends more than anything else, and seemed to lag in his studies. Of course there was Mary, who was always doing her homework ahead of time and got all O's and E's. She was even willing to help people with homework when they asked, although she wasn't the easiest to interpret. Sometimes her explanations were confusing and complex, and only after a lengthy conversation could one finally understand her meaning.

Lrya frowned, glaring at the stone floor. None of this made sense. Mudbloods were meant to be useless, the slop of magic society.

But as she continued to listen on, a small part of her thought maybe she was wrong.

* * *

She avoided most of her dorm mates after that. Her mind was too muddled to make sense of anything. Instead she often sat with Luna, who although was as scatterbrained as a kneazle stranded in the desert Lyra could at least count on Luna not having to have an ethical dilemma with her. Luna's house had begun to hide the girl's clothing on her, taking up much of Luna's free time as she searched it down. Lyra couldn't understand how Luna could sit there and allow people to take her stuff. Luna didn't seem particularly perturbed by it. When Lyra finally asked her about it, Luna only said, "Oh, things that are meant to be found will often make their way back."

But that still left Luna Lovegood without a proper pair of socks or trainers to wear in the meantime.

"What do you think is in the Chamber of Secrets?" she asked Luna one day.

"Oh, I suppose a Wrackspurt opened it. They float in through your ears and make your brain go all fuzzy," she said airily.

Lyra wasn't even sure why she asked.

"Oi! You! Malfoy!" a loud voice shouted.

Lyra turned, her brow lightly arched as she took in the Weasley running full speed towards her, Harry Potter attempting to catch up with him.

"You're a Gryffindor, aren't you?"

Lyra's only answer was to revert her eyes to her _very_ red and yellow scarf.

A light blush spread across his cheek, before he plowed on. "Then you owe Gryffindor your loyalty."

"Ron, leave her alone," Potter said, tugging at his friend. "Even if she knew it were true she wouldn't admit it."

"We at least have to try Harry," he whispered, pulling away from his friend. Potter sighed, staring at Lyra with defeated eyes.

"Did your brother open the Chamber of Secrets?"

Lyra's lips went into a thin line, stating amiably, "I was under the impression Potter did. That is what the gossip says, him being a Parselmouth and all."

"You'd bloody better take that back!" Weasley hissed, stepping closer to her in a threatening manner. Harry pulled his friend back, begging him to go to their next class.

She allowed herself a perusal of the Weasley, taking in the fraying sleeves and scuffed shoes. The clashing scarlet red of his scarf and the garish orange hair in disarray. She wouldn't show fear, and Weasley was too hot headed to do much damage anyways. If he touched a single hair on her pretty little head, her father would ruin what was left of the Weasley clan. She had nothing to worry about.

"I was merely stating gossip. You cannot fight everyone with the same sentiments."

"You're no bloody Gryffindor! You're just like those sleazy Slytherins!" Weasley continued to shout obscene things at her as Potter dragged him away, practically foaming at the mouth. Once out of sight she rolled her eyes, taking Luna's arm who had been strangely quiet the whole encounter. A quick glance at her friend showed that she had been staring at a nearby wall, probably watching one of those Wrackspurt things for all she knew.

Just another typical day at Hogwarts.

* * *

Her mind continued to wander to Mary, who was currently studying on her bed with a quill resting behind her ear. She was smarter than the average witch, that was for sure. Mary seemed to go through classes with ease, unlike Lyra who struggled for every decent grade she got. Lyra no longer got anything below acceptable, but her O's were sparring unlike Mary who seemed to get them every other class. Mary was very hard on herself, and was usually in a bad mood if she got anything less than a 90% on her grades. She would mull over it, trying to figure out exactly where she went wrong. She often stayed behind to speak with the teacher in order to get the correct answers. Lyra actually studied more than her counterpart, but still the muggleborn received higher marks.

It grated on her.

Here was this mudblood that was supposedly useless and should be cast from society. But she was a better witch than Lyra. It was obscene.

It was then proved again at the end of term that muggleborns were indeed not as dumb as she believed to be when the Golden Trio won house points for rescuing Ginny and saving her from the basilisk. They all knew most of the planning had to have been Hermione. Harry may have the most powerful magic, but Hermione's logic surpassed all of them. The girl should have been a Ravenclaw.

Ginny had gone home straight to her family after the ordeal, so she was not at the feast or on the train ride back home. Lyra sat with Romilda and Mary this time, listening as they gossiped about Cedric Diggory and how he had to be the most handsome boy in their school. She thought of Marcus and his thick brows, how overlarge his hands and feet were. He was the best, she convinced herself. He is kind and of the finest breeding.

Then why had he failed his last year at Hogwarts?

If a mudblood was able to pass so should he. He had everything necessary to be a great wizard. Magic had run through his family's veins for more than a thousand years, almost as long as the Malfoy's. He received the best opportunities, received the most expensive magical supplies.

But he was still mediocre.

It didn't make sense, none of it did. He should be just as powerful as the next pureblood. He was the _best_.

But muggleborns and halfbloods were doing better than most purebloods, a voice in her head whispered. Peter Burke was a good example of what a pureblood's magic should be. He ranked number one in the dueling club, Rachel Bulstrode, another Slytherin, placed third.

The muggleborns had Jason Samuels who she was certain his dream of being a healer would one day happen. Mary Caldweather who went through every subject with ease. Even Collin Creevey could be counted as talented. His pictures were beautiful. He had given the photograph he had snapped of Lrya back to her, his cheeks a light pick as he scurried off like a timid mouse. Lyra had always regarded herself as beautiful. All Malfoy's were, but the picture was ethereal. The lighting was soft, and the glow of the fire warm behind her. The picture wasn't in focus, but she thought that was the point. She would place it on her dresser when she got home at a place of pride.

Even though the picture was by far the most superior one taken of her, would her father agree once she told him a mudblood had taken it?

* * *

Guest Reviews:

Guest #1- Yep haha I'm going to try updating once a week.

Allie- You're welcome haha that request worked out really well I glad you liked the last chapter so much. That's the fluffiest it gets with the Malfoy family haha.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

* * *

She sent many letters that summer. Letter to Ginny Weasley, asking about her health and if she was okay after her trying experience. Lyra had Smarmy, her grey owl she had received on her seventh birthday, deliver letters to Romilda who was apparently having a summer romance with some muggle boy two years her elder. Lyra couldn't say she agreed, but Romilda's letters always made her laugh. Half the time Lyra thought her friend was a loon. She was always obsessing over something, throwing all of her energy into it.

Lyra even sent a letter to Mary Caldweather.

She had been careful not to let her parents or Draco know. Draco would have never let her hear the end of it, and she wasn't sure if her parents would readily agree that it was needed to keep up appearances.

"Father, why do you hate muggleborns?" Lyra asked one night, watching her father with a nervous glint in her eyes.

Her father frowned deeply. "Because they are swine."

"Why?"

He regarded his daughter through narrowed eyes. "You know why."

"Because they steal their magic from us and sully our blood," she quoted, staring at the ground.

"Yes, why would you need a reminder of this?"

Lyra swallowed.

"Hermione Granger is called the witch of the age."

"A fluke," her father brushed off.

"Mary Caldweather is smarter than me."

"Then you're not trying hard enough."

She clamped her mouth shut, refusing to swallow her pride and tell him that no matter how hard she tried Mary Caldweather would always be better than her. "We had a muggle prime minister. Grandfather was friends with him."

"They were not friends," her father asserted stiffly. "They were business colleagues. At least on the surface. Your grandfather managed to undermine him and get him out of office."

Just like father was doing with Fudge right now.

"But if he got into office he had to have been good."

Her father looked over her with keen eyes. "He received his position out of charity. Mudbloods were searching for a change. What is it with all these questions Lyra? You're not having any… _doubts_ , are you?"

"Of course not father," she said demurely, lowering her lashes.

He adjusted his cape, retying the clasp before exiting through the door. "Good. I wouldn't want to think you couldn't handle the task I've given you."

He didn't give her a chance to answer. She watched as he popped out of view, her façade crumbling once he was out of sight. She was confused, receiving no good answers for the questions she was asking. She didn't understand. There had to be an answer. People couldn't hate people for no reason.

She delved further into the subject, tracing it back to Salazar Slytherin and his belief that mudbloods were not good enough for his school or house. She was educated as she found out muggleborns weren't exactly without magic blood, it had just been highly diluted. Their magic came from Squibs that had integrated into the non-magical world.

It was strange to think that a muggleborn's family wasn't non-magical, but actually a long line of Squibs. They weren't really stealing magic if that were true, so there went that argument.

No matter how much she researched the subject, she still could not find a finite answer as to why mudbloods were hated. As the summer came to an end she had to admit to herself that maybe, sometimes people are wrong. Even people like her father.

She couldn't voice her new opinions. Her parents would pull her out of Hogwarts and seclude her until it was either time for her to marry or she had their beliefs firmly in place again. It was surprising for her to realize she did care about her friends, even Mary, which was hard to admit.

Even though she knew nothing was wrong with her muggle born friend, old prejudices died hard and she couldn't help that voice in her head that still said she was much better than Mary would ever be.

She often wondered if her parents would disown her like Lyra's grandparents had disowned her mother's sister, burning her mysterious aunt right off of the family tree. Lyra didn't even know her aunt's name, or if she was alive still. Maybe Lyra had cousins. It would be nice to have family. All the living Blacks were in Azkaban, and all other ties were loosely connected. Almost all purebloods were related somehow or another. It had been more than a hundred years since the Malfoy's and Flints had joined, but there was still that family connection. It was encouraged in Pureblood to have big families, but only the Weasleys seemed to have gotten this memo. Most purebloods had no more than two children, an heir and a spare. If they were girls a second son could always be pulled from another pureblood family and have him take on the female's name to continue on the line.

"Mind your temper Draco. You're letting people control you with it. You don't want Potter using it against you, do you?"

"Of course not, father." Her brother had the grace to blush.

"And I won't be hearing any of those _questions_ anymore, will I Lyra?"

"I was being facetious father."

"Good," he said with a short nod. "You did have me… _worried_."

She turned away, biting down harshly on the side of her cheek.

"There's murmurings of a creature joining the Hogwart's staff. Do keep me updated. I won't have some half-breed teaching my children."

"Yes, father," they both chimed.

They went through the platform and took a moment to take in the ruby red train sitting before them.

"Give me a kiss before you go," their mother whispered, leaning her cheek down. They both obliged her, Lyra clutching her mother's hand in her own before departing.

"Do me a favor, dear sister. Please talk to your betrothed this year. I'm tired of him always asking me how you are." Draco entered his compartment, hovering his suit case as he went.

She hadn't known Marcus and been asking about her. Watching her, yes. But not asking. She wasn't sure what to think about him, but he seemed to at least care.

"Lyra! We were just wondering where you were!" Romilda squealed, gathering her in the most undignified hug she'd ever had. "I have so much to tell you!"

She was going off to Hogwarts.

* * *

Guest Comments:

Allie- That's what I want to hear! Haha there's not too much fluffiness in this story. It's pretty sparringly done.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

* * *

This year, no matter what, she had to do better than Mary. Just to prove that she could. Her father said she wasn't trying hard enough. He had to be right. If Lyra had been dedicated to her schooling before, it was nothing like her dedication to studying now. She spent her first month at Hogwarts very much embroiled in her studies. It wasn't until she realized that people had been pointing fingers and whispering while she passed did she stop to look at their surroundings.

"Romilda, why is everyone staring at me?"

"They're being stupid. People somehow found out that you're betrothed to Marcus Flint and it's been spreading like fiendfyre."

"Why is that such a big deal?"

Romilda blushed, quickly averting her eyes. "Oh, you know. Yeah?"

"No, I don't."

"I-it's just. You're pretty, and Flint is so... _not_. They're making all kinds of comparisons." Romilda stared meekly at the floor, adjusting the strap of her bag.

"Well that's dumb," Lyra announced. It wasn't like the other Hogwarts students were marrying him.

"I think so too," Romilda hurried out. "Mary and I have been trying to deflect their words, but no one really listens to a bunch of second years," she said sheepishly.

"Thank you," Lyra said, taken aback. She hadn't expected her friends to defend her, although she wasn't sure exactly what she was defending against.

"Could you imagine marrying that monster," a brown haired girl whispered. "He looks like an ogre! Purebloods are insane. It's all that cross breeding, I tell you. "

They blushed as they saw the glare leveled at them by Lyra, hurrying past. She turned back to her friend. "They're saying things like that?"

"Uh, yep," Romilda answered, getting distracted as her new crush passed by. He winked at her, making Romilda blush prettily.

"You should just go up to him already," Lyra commented.

"But I couldn't!" Romilda said, horrified. "What if he says no?"

"What if he says yes?" Lyra commented mildly, shaking her head. Honestly, he was already flirting with her. If he didn't agree to a date with Romilda then he was a right git, and Lyra didn't use that word lightly. It was unladylike.

"Hey Lyra," Colin said as he passed by, smiling at her.

"Hi?" Her brows rose in confusion, but he just continued to walk passed her.

Perhaps they were now in talking circles because of the picture? That could be the only reason he would speak to her. Lyra had never been the friendliest girl. In fact, not too long ago her friends had mentioned her somewhat abrasive personality.

"Sometimes it's hard to be your friend," Mary admitted. "It's tough reading your emotions, and sometimes you're so cold towards people."

"Ginny isn't the most understanding person either," Lyra said with a frown.

"Yeah, but that's only when I'm angry," Ginny snorted. "You're practically always like that. You barely ever smile."

"I-" she trailed off, unsure of how to proceed. She thought she had been doing a great job at revealing emotions. Apparently she wasn't. "I try to be forthcoming. I've always been taught, well, not to show anything. People can't hurt you that way."

"What do you mean?" Romilda asked, turning towards Lyra.

"People use other people's emotions against them all the time. Look at Potter and my brother. They're always baiting each other to get a rise out of the other."

"In Harry's defense it's usually your brother who starts things. If not your brother then mine," Ginny said, shaking her head.

"What is Harry Potter like?" Romilda asked, clutching her bear to her chest.

"I don't know him very well," Ginny said, blushing. "But he's always been very nice to me. I've never once heard him say a mean thing. Except about your brother and Snape, of course."

Ginny and Romilda couldn't make their crushes more obvious. Lyra rolled her eyes and looked at Mary, both of them grinning in amusement.

Her smile suddenly dropped as she realized what she was doing. She was smiling with a mudblood. She wasn't supposed to do that. Her father would be furious with her if he knew, Draco would probably be raving.

But how would they know?

She turned back towards Mary and beamed. Mary's wavering smile gaining strength again when she realized she wasn't being snubbed.

It would be her little secret, and no one had to know.

* * *

Lyra was studying in the library, pouring over her transfiguration book. Professor McGonagall had given them a twelve inch paper to write on the properties of toad stools and she wasn't one for slacking.

The chair across from her shuffled and someone sat down. To her surprise it was Marcus.

"Hello," she said, watching him with wide eyes.

"Lyra," he said warmly. "How are you?"

Marcus Flint was strange, and the more she learned about him the bigger the mystery he seemed to be. He could be cruel and unjust, but then soft and kind. He walked around Hogwarts with a glare on his face, but that always disappeared around her. He wasn't very smart, but could think of the sweetest things to say to her. He didn't act how a traditional pureblood male normally acted. It was clear he shared the same ideals as her family, because more than once she had heard him murmur under his breath the word mudblood. She had puzzled over him on more than one night and still hadn't come to a good conclusion.

Marcus was quite the abnormality.

"I am well. I'm just working on a potion's essay," she said, a slight tilt to her lips curving them into a smile.

"Snape and McGonagall are the worst when it comes to homework," he muttered darkly. "I've got this stupid essay on pygmys due tomorrow."

Marcus had never asked anything of her. If she didn't know better she'd say he treated her like a younger sister. But she did know, and she saw that glint in his eyes that said he was lurking, bidding his time until he could act. Lyra had never been more thankful that she was only twelve. He didn't expect anything from her, and that made her feel safe. She wasn't ready for boys or kisses or late nights out. She just wanted to stay with her friends and study.

She wondered when he would deem her old enough, when her father would say she could be married. Traditionally, the marrying age was seventeen. But things had gotten more lax in the past decades. If everything fell into place the way she wanted it to she may be able to convince everyone to wait until she was twenty. Her mother had managed to convince Druella and Cygnus Black, Lyra's grandparents and her mother's parents, to wait until she turned twenty-two somehow. It was something about how her mother's original betrothed had passed away and they were allowing her to 'grieve.'

But mother was as conniving as Lyra was. She barely knew the person that was to be her husband. A contract wasn't pulled up with Lucius Malfoy until mother was twenty-one, and they didn't marry until a year later. Mother had then somehow convinced father to wait for children, an amazing feat. Lyra could only hope she was just as convincing as her mother.

Marcus was studying her again, examining every inch of her making her feel paranoid and self-conscious. "Why do you always watch me?"

His eyes drifted up to hers. "I'm learning you. I want to understand you, and I'll admit that I don't right now."

She swallowed thickly, swirling her finger against the hard wood of the table. "What do you wish to know?"

"Everything," he said not missing a beat.

They sat quietly, neither of them saying a word.

"My favorite candy is Sour Apple Bites. Honeydukes sells them in those little jars."

"That doesn't count as a candy," he snorted. "Now Chocoballs, that's a candy."

"It's too sugary for me," she said, delicately scrunching her nose. "Too much chocolate makes me feel sick."

"Well now I know something about you," he said, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms across his chest.

"That you do," she agreed, staring at him.

After that they began to speak more, not quite friends. More like good acquaintances. They would nod to each other in the hallways, and Flint always had a smile ready for her every time. Even once when it looked like he was about to get into a fight with a sixth year Gryffindor he stopped to give her a grin.

Of course directly afterwards he smashed the poor boys head in, but you couldn't win everything.

"Don't you ever worry about him hurting you?" Ginny asked one night. The girls enjoyed doing this every now and then, pulling off all their blankets and pillows, making an area in the center of the room to lay next to each other.

"No," Lyra answered truthfully.

"But he's such a brute," Romilda complained. She gave Lyra a sheepish look immediately after. "Sorry, but you're my best friend! I don't want him to hurt you."

She had a best friend?

When had this happened? How had this happened? She stared at Romilda wide eyed.

"I'm only being honest!" Romilda complained. "I care about you, we all do. None of us want to see you in an unhappy marriage."

"I think I can be happy with him," Lyra answered.

"I- How the bloody hell do you think that?!" Ginny exclaimed, sitting up to get a better look at her.

"Because," Lyra said, suddenly feeling shy. "He's always kind to me. He doesn't look at me like some of the other purebloods do. Everyone always wants something from a Malfoy. They want money, they want power. High end jobs and recognition. He doesn't ask for anything. He just wants, well, me. He's always been honest with me, and polite."

"Okay, when is Flint nice? I have yet to see this happen." Romila burst, hands on her hips.

"He's nice to _me_ ," she practically whined. But Lyra definitely could say it was not a whine. Malfoys did not make such noises.

Thinking on Draco perhaps that particular tradition was broken, because he partook in that atrocious behavior all the time.

"I'm telling you! He really is nice to me. He's never glared or given me a dirty look. He doesn't take things out on me when he's having a shabby day. I know I can make this work, at least I can if he fixes his teeth," she muttered.

All of the girls burst into laughter.

"I knew it!" Mary shouted. "I couldn't understand how you never commented on his appearance!"

"Well he's-he's okay looking," Lyra said, trying to back track. "I mean, I'm not blind. I just don't care? Purebloods have never cared much for looks. The stress has always been on blood." Thinking back on her statement, she amended, "Except the Malfoys. We've always tried to get the best of everything. My father was highly upset when the Nott heir was taken. If only I had been born sooner," she chuckled.

"Is that why you don't mind his looks? Because of his blood?" Mary asked softly, her face withdrawn and appearing sad.

"I-" Lyra trailed off, thinking hard to herself. "It's because I know what my options are, and out of all of them he is the best. I, I can't deny that blood is part of it. You have to understand. It's all I've known for so long. It's hard to adapt to this new way of thinking, that blood doesn't matter. I really struggle over it." Her voice faded off at the end and she began twisting the corner of her pillow anxiously.

"I thought you felt that way," Mary said in the silence. "First year you always tried to avoid me, but now you don't. Not really."

"You're my friend. My true friend," Lyra assured her, hoping that Mary could see it in her eyes.

"The way I look at it is you've been brain washed to feel that way. It was all you ever knew," Ginny offered.

"Honestly, I think I would still feel the same way I did last year if I had been sorted into Slytherin," Lyra admitted.

She would have never had to question herself then. The occasional half-blood went into Slytherin, but never muggleborns. Lyra would have never taken notice of muggleborns without them being near her so much. Lyra would have stayed in her sheltered bubble, with people who all shared the same ideals as her family.

It was nice, having people that weren't her family that she could count on. She couldn't deny placing such trust in them made her nervous, but she had felt so much better after. Like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

It made everything worth it, just to have real friends.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

* * *

Lyra and her betrothed almost began to follow a schedule, meeting once or twice a week to study at the library. Sometimes they didn't say anything at all, and other times they could not stop talking. She was glad she could at least hold a conversation with Marcus. It wouldn't be like how some pureblood marriages were, practically ignoring each other except to have the occasional brat. They would be friends, something many pureblood marriages couldn't brag about. She wasn't sure if she'd ever feel anything romantic for him, but she had years before that may become an issue. She wasn't positive on Marcus' feelings herself, he seemed to adore her if anything, giving her soft smiles and looks. He never seemed to be searching for more either, so she left that subject be. They had yet to bring it up with one another.

"You look pretty today," Flint said with a grin.

Lyra gave him a hesitant smile, whispering her thanks. He rarely commented on her appearance, but when he did she always felt so shy.

"That mudblood that follows you around, the one always snapping pictures of you. Why do you allow him to do that?" he asked suddenly, a hint of irritation in his voice.

Lrya frowned. "I don't. He took one picture of me and then he gave it back. I hardly see that as stalking me."

"No," he insisted. "He does it all the time. When you're not looking."

That was creepy, to say the least. She hadn't realized it. But she was hardly special, he took pictures of everyone whether they wanted him to or not.

"I'll talk to him about it," she said finally. She wasn't sure what he did with his pictures, but she certainly didn't want just _anyone_ getting a hold of them.

Marcus nodded, before asking, "What do you think of Lupin?"

"I think he needs to eat more."

He was practically skin and bones, and always appeared to be depleted of strength and energy. Hagrid had joined the staff this year, making it obvious who the 'creature' was that was joining the Hogwarts staff. Father was doing everything possible to get the man fired, especially after Draco had gotten mauled by a hippogriff. At least, by his accounts he had. Lyra thought it had scratched him more than anything, but by the way her brother went on about it you'd think he'd lost his arm or something similar.

"He's strange. I heard his boggart is a white balloon. Who is afraid of a balloon?" Marcus snorted in laughter.

That _was_ quite odd. Lyra was glad second years didn't have to face a boggart. She wasn't sure what her greatest fear was, but she certainly didn't want everyone to know it.

"Do you think he'll make second years face the boggart?"

Flint rubbed at his neck, a confused look on his face. "I don't know. Maybe? He's had everyone third year and up face it. Tomorrow is the fifth years if the rumors are true."

Lyra glared at the words on her paper, attempting to figure a way out of this before it even happened. There was absolutely no way she would be participating in that activity. She didn't care if she got detention for refusing.

It wasn't until the next week that Professor Lupin decided to have second years go against the boggart. The first part of class they focused on repeating the words correctly. Lyra was relieved by that, because that meant less people would have to face the boggart. She was hoping that by sticking at the end of the line she would never have to even get near it.

"Now remember, the spell is riddikulus! Think silly thoughts, laughter is your greatest weapon against it."

The wardrobe jumped again, as if the boggart had heard Lupin and didn't quite agree with him. Lyra shivered, watching the cupboard with keen eyes. It had been attempting to force its way out since they had arrived. Every time it did that Lyra became paranoid, worrying if it would finally succeed in its endeavors and end up before her, showcasing her fears not only to her but to the entire class.

She couldn't allow that to happen, no matter what.

"In a line everyone! Single file! Ah, Mr. Pike. I see you've volunteered to go first."

It was surprising, as Poliver Pike was a Slytherin through and through. By the defiant look on his face Lyra could only imagine he was trying to prove his worth. Maybe it was a dare, because his friends were snickering behind him awfully loud.

Poliver blinked his water green eyes, glaring roughly at the cabinet in front of him. "I'm ready," he announced, his voice wavering slightly.

To her complete and utter shock her brother stepped out of the closet, his face filled with distain as he stared down Poliver. "You're pathetic, do you know that? You think by following me around you'll gain my friendship. You're-"

"Riddikulus!" he shouted, glaring at the farce of her brother. Immediately Draco was wearing Gryffindor colors with a _very_ Luna-like hat on his head that looked as if it were a moment away from tipping off his head.

The Slytherins roared with laughter, the Gryffindors seeming to enjoy it even more. Lrya tipped her nose in the air, not happy about her brother being the source of amusement for the whole class. Now that she thought about it, Pike was always following her brother around, hanging onto every word he said as if it were Wizarding Law. Lyra thought Pike was a borderline stalker, but her brother had never complained. Perhaps he would now, since the boy had made him the laughing stock of Slytherin.

"Very good Mr. Pike," Professor Lupin announced, a wiry smile on his face. "Come on Mr. McGee, don't be afraid. Step right up."

The Gryffindor's fear was a giant roach, amusing many of his friends. It had horrified her to see such a large insect, but then she reminded herself that it was not real and remained unperturbed.

About half way through the line the bell rang, much to her relief. After seeing Romilda's greatest fear was having a boil that practically covered her entire face, and Mary being terrified of getting a failing grade, Lyra had seen enough.

"I can't believe you're afraid of getting a boil," Mary snorted, rolling her eyes.

"At least I don't let grades rule my life," Romilda grumbled, glaring at the floor.

"Just like you don't let reading beauty magazines run yours?" Mary returned with a smirk.

Romilda grumbled under her breath, something about a nosey know-it-all with no sense of fashion. Mary ignored her, turning to Ginny and gossiping about the last lesson.

"What about you? We never saw your fear," Romilda asked curiously.

"I don't know it," Lyra answered, hurrying to stuff a piece of bread in her mouth.

Romilda scoffed. "Yeah right, you just don't want to tell us."

"I really don't know, although if I did I don't think I'd tell you," Lyra answered lightly, a mischievous grin on her face.

Romilda sighed, grumbling under her breath about annoying best friends before turning to Mary. But Romilda's question made Lyra quite curious. Lyra had to fear something, everybody did. There were some things she was afraid of, like heights and giant bugs and the like. But she could always overcome her fear for them.

The question gnawed at her throughout the week until it was all she could think about. Even her teachers began to notice, sending her worried looks as they went over lessons and wand flicks. McGonagall had even pulled her to the side, asking about it.

With all of these factors pressing on her she knew there was only one option: to sneak into the Defense room after hours and face the boggart head on. There would be no question then, and she would never be surprised when her biggest fear suddenly bore down on her. She would learn to conquer it.

It wasn't too terribly hard to sneak across the castle. The almost run in with Mrs. Norris was the worst part, but a good Pertrificus Totalus fixed that problem. She hesitated at the door, latching onto the knob with clammy hands before carefully wedging it open. When only the light of the moon met her gaze Lyra inched the rest of the way in, turning in a circle as she searched the dark corners.

"Lumos," she whispered, blinking as the harsh light momentarily blinded her. A thorough search of the room left her empty handed. She had almost given up when she remembered the room in the back of the classroom. She was pretty sure it was used for storage of whatever a DADA teacher may need.

She pressed her ear against the door and nearly jumped when she heard a thump from inside. She pushed the door open without hesitation, waving her wand in the darkness of the room. All sorts of things sat in it. Empty cages piled on their sides, strange creatures stuffed and mounted. But what had her attention was the trunk in the center of the room. Another 'thunk' was heard, the suitcase slightly shifting with the movement.

She straightened her back, peering at the trunk in determination until finally she called out the spell to open it.

A shape rose out of the trunk, dressed in dark clothing and well pressed cuff-links. The bone structure was hauntingly familiar, making her stomach curdle as if she had just ate spoilt meat.

"Mudblood lover," her father spat. "Blood traitor, hanging out with the likes of those scum." She was immobile, staring in shock at the person she called father. But he had never looked at her the way he was now. "I've known of your feelings all along. Why do you think I favor your brother? You are weak, your resolve too easy to waiver." He straightened, staring straight down at her like she was the dirt on his shoes. "You're not worthy of the Malfoy name. It's time to strip you of it."

He stood over her, his wand pointing down at her with his lip curled in distain.

"Rid-ridic-" she attempted, stumbling over her words. The wand trembled in her hand as she attempted to raise it. "Ridik-ulous." A paltry amount of sparks left her wand.

Her father looked down at her in contempt. "Even now you're utterly useless. You can't even manage to beat that mudblood at anything."

"Ridicu-" she trailed off, dropping her wand and holding her hands over her ears tightly and squinting her eyes shut. She wanted to give up, to curl up in a ball and go to sleep pretending none of this was happening. She knew it wasn't real, but she couldn't help it.

"Ridikulus!" a voice behind her shouted.

She opened her eyes to watch as the boggart seemed to swirl in the air, slamming into the trunk making the room go quiet again. It was then she heard her own sobs, how they ripped out of her throat uncontrollable. She felt her cheeks against her hands, hot to the touch and covered in tears.

"Are you okay?" a familiar voice asked, a voice that she really didn't want to hear right now.

"Colin! What are you doing here? Get out of here! Just go away!" she cried, angry and embarrassed at getting caught in such a weak and unbecoming state.

"I just wanted to help," he stumbled out, slowly backing up. "I-I heard you when you left and I wanted to make sure you were okay."

"You're just a creep. Go away! And stop taking pictures of me!" she screeched. She knew none of this was his fault, but she was so humiliated by not being able to conquer her own fears, and then have Colin of all people see what she was most afraid of was her father's scorn.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, backing out dejectedly. "I just wanted-"

"I don't care. Leave me alone," she said sniffling.

His footsteps backed away until the sound of a door creaking open then closed made them disappear. She remained there until she could gather herself enough to sneak back into her room, lying awake for the rest of the night and repeating everything that had happened in her head over and over again until morning.

* * *

Guest Reviews:

Guest- Right now her and Ginny are a bit stand-offish, but they do get closer so you will see more of that!

Allie- For the type of journey I'm writing she had to change her mind, but there's a lot of twist and turns so don't be too disappointed!


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

* * *

For nearly a month she could not bring herself to look Colin in the face, and whenever she knew he was near she would scurry out of view, not wanting to feel the burn of his eyes on her. It wasn't until after Christmas break she could manage to meet his gaze at all.

"You should talk to Colin," Luna whispered. "I think he misses you."

"Misses me?" Lyra asked with a snort. "He barely knows me."

"You can miss someone you do not know."

Lrya frowned, staring down at her open Transfiguration book as the warmth of the nearby fireplace lit the pages. She opened her mouth to argue, but decided against it. There was no sense in arguing with Luna Lovegood. She somehow always left the victor, even if she won by confounding someone by something she'd said.

"I'm going to go now. I'm sure I'll need to search for my socks in the morning. My roommate enjoys hiding them from me."

"Why do you let her do that Luna?"

"Do what?" Luna asked, confused.

"Hide your things like that. You could confront her about it, or place a curse on them so that anyone who is not you that touches your stuff gets boils. You can even place them in your trunk and keep it locked with a spell."

"Everything that is lost is found again, given enough time," Luna said carelessly.

"But it's such a bother! Surely it annoys you? Even a little?"

"If it will be found again, why would I be angry?" With that, Luna left the Gryffindor common room, thanking her friend for bringing her in and sating her curiosity. Luna had heard all sorts of rumors about the Gryffindor common room, like they had a real life lion sitting in the entrance; and that a list of Slytherins to be pranked, ran by Fred and George, lay tacked against the board for everyone to participate in. Luna was quite disappointed to see none of these rumors held any merit.

Lyra frowned, wishing she could somehow help Luna. But it was hard to help someone that did not wish to be helped. A throat cleared behind her, bringing her attention to its source. It was Colin Creevy, awkwardly holding a book in one hand and his camera in the other.

"Do you mind if I sit with you?"

Lyra fought to hide the blush on her cheek, staring down with determination at her book. "Help yourself," she answered, her finger ghosting over a sentence. She heard him sit down on the couch across from her and arrange his things, flipping a page open and beginning to write an essay.

"Are you working on Transfiguration?" she asked, her head still turned down at her book. The writing across from her paused.

"Yes, are you?"

She agreed, glancing up at him through lowered lashes. He was staring at her, which lately was nothing uncommon. Marcus Flint had noticed and had become annoyed with him about that too, but Lyra had convinced him to leave Colin be. Besides, she owed Colin. Who knew how long it would have taken to pull herself together.

"Thank you, for that night," she said softly. "I shouldn't have yelled at you. I was angry and shocked and… quite frankly, I was feeling a lot of things. I was overwhelmed and took it out on you."

"You were right though, I shouldn't have followed you," he murmured, going back to his essay.

"But you helped me, so it's okay," she said firmly, watching him with keen eyes. He had always had a thin build, almost wiry. Colin weighed less than her, although an inch or two taller by her estimates. "Can I ask you something? Why were you always taking pictures of me?"

His cheeks burned red, the color spreading down to his neck and onto his ears. "I just… your aesthetically pleasing."

Her mouth slightly parted and her brows furrowed. "What does that even mean?"

He paused his writing, clenching his fist open and closed before placing both his book and quill on the couch next to him. "You come out really nice on camera. You're really, um," he coughed awkwardly. "Pretty."

Lyra scowled. "Cho Chang is prettier than me, so is Ginny; and the Greengrasses have always had beautiful children." Not that they always grew up to be so. Sometimes they took a turn for the worst, like Daphne had. It seemed Astoria was safe from that family trait thus far.

"It's more than that. You're very… proportionate? Your face and body are very symmetrical and it makes it come out really well on film."

"I feel like this is going over my head," she laughed, giving up on understanding him. It sounded like some strange artistic answer that she would never comprehend. "Well thank you then, for finding me quite- artistic?"

He grinned, his eyes glinting with the firelight.

"Although my betrothed doesn't find it very amusing. If you could tone it down, perhaps? Or not do it in front of him that would be nice." She paused, gnawing on her cheek. "And please don't show or give the pictures out. At least not without telling me."

"I wouldn't," he says immediately. "I keep them in a room I found near the Hufflepuff common room. I keep all my pictures there, behind a painting guarded by a knight. No one will see them."

That relieved her. She couldn't help but think his obsession with pictures was strange, but at least he wasn't sharing those pictures with the world.

"I'm going to head upstairs. Thanks again, for helping me." She smiled shyly, her eyes downcast as she gathered all her books.

"No problem," he whispered, watching as she went. "I would help you no matter what."

The rest of her semester was filled with studying, still attempting to beat Mary at something, anything. Her father couldn't have lied about all the things he told her about muggleborns. He wouldn't do that, not to her. Not to family.

At the end of the semester her efforts were rewarded. She received an O in History of Magic while Mary got an E. Lyra thought after all that hard work she would feel ecstatic, almost gloating over the grade. But all she felt was the uneasy tiredness that had seeped through her bones and the knowledge that if Mary had tried as hard as she had Mary would have gotten perfect grades too.

In the end, even though Lyra had gotten the higher grade Mary had won.

Her brother ran past her, holding onto his nose while blubbering in the most unseemly way.

"Draco, what happened?" she asked, catching up to him and grabbing onto his arms.

"Tha mu'bod boke my nos," he hissed, watching as his loons stared at him in stark panic.

"What?"

He pulled his hand away making the blood on his face clear. She couldn't tell if it was broken, but better safe than sorry. "Episkey," she announced carefully.

Draco made an undignified squeak as his nose was corrected, attempting to push his sister away as she tried to get a better look at it.

"What did you do Draco? How did you even break it?" she asked in worry, nibbling on the side of her cheek.

"That dirty mudblood did it!" he shouted out. "Bloody hell! You couldn't have given me a warning before doing that?"

"It still would have hurt, and you would have worked yourself up even more," she murmured, smacking his hands out of the way. He winced as she felt the bridge of his nose, but stopped fighting her. "Wait. Are you saying _Granger_ did this?"

He blushed. "Yes! I didn't- I didn't expect her to! That's why she got me. She resorted to muggle fighting because she knew she would never be able to beat me in a duel," he boasted, attempting to salvage some of his pride.

She clenched her jaw, scowling as she thought on Hermione Granger. Lyra was going to kill her. Draco may be absolutely useless when it came to a real confrontation but Lyra wasn't. She may not like to fight people, but she couldn't allow someone to do this to her family with no consequences. "You don't worry about that Draco. Granger will be taken care of."

"I don't need you to stick up for me," he said firmly. "I'm older than you, and the heir! This is my duty."

Lyra refused to respond, not willing to shame her brother any further than he already had. "It is," she agreed. "I'm sure you will."

She was almost positive he wouldn't. Not unless he convinced someone like Nott or Zabini, his only friends who had half a brain, to help him. But those two weren't vapid, and Nott wasn't really one to partake in violence unless he absolutely had to.

She walked with purpose towards the common room, knowing this was the best place to wait for the frizzy headed witch. Lyra didn't care if Hermione was the supposed witch of their generation. No one would attack her brother like that and get away with it, especially someone who thought she was so entitled to everything in life.

It wasn't until almost midnight did the Golden Trio walk into the sparsely lit common room, shadows making their faces even more tired and withdrawn than they were. By that time she had calmed down, making the curse she had chosen much less… permanent than the first one she had chosen.

"Hey Granger," she shouted, standing up with her wand in hand. A Malfoy didn't lower themselves to physical fights, after all. When the muggleborn turned around Lyra shouted, "Conjunctivitis!"

Immediately Hermione cried out, rubbing at her eyes as they swelled shut and burned red with irritation.

"Oi!" the red head shouted. "What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?" Potter merely raised his wand, his eyes challenging hers. She'd never seen Potter look like anything but a pushover, so the defiance in his eyes had shocked her.

"Now we're even," she announced evenly. "Two eyes for a nose. Sounds about right."

"Are you bloody mad?" Ron shouted. "Do you know what we've been through tonight? We-"

"Ron, quiet," Harry whispered with warning, the tightening in his face making Lyra realize that Ron was about to spill something pretty big.

"I'd take your friend to the hospital. If left for too long it can get quite painful," she announced.

"You are a slimy Slytherin, just like I thought. You belong with your Death Eater father!"

"Another word and I'll make you bald Weasley," she said between gritted teeth.

"C'mon Ron! Hermione is more important."

She watched them with keen eyes as they helped their friend over the step where the portrait was, the Fat Lady closing the door behind her. Lyra sagged, clenching her wand in her fist before placing it inside her wand holster. She knew she probably just made an enemy, but she didn't care. Her brother was more important to her than any supposed favor she could gain from the boy-who-lived and his two shadows.

* * *

Guest Comments-

Allie- She practically worships her father haha even when she knows he's wrong she still does what he tells her. I think if I had did a chapter or two pre-Hogwarts people would have seen this a lot more. It takes he a while to accept that her father has faults, and even then she fluctuates because one moment she can admit it and the next she's adamant that she's wrong somehow and her father is right.


	10. Chapter 10

This chapter is dedicated to morganna12. Thank you for taking the time to review last chapter. ;)

* * *

Chapter 10

* * *

Summer was a silent affair. After Lyra realized it didn't matter if she was better than Mary at studies Lyra had much more free time on her hands. She spent a paltry amount of time learning, and even more time observing her brother and the reckless path he was bound on. She had never watched him so closely before, and his annoyance of her was at an all-time high because of it.

"Draco, come. We're going on a business trip," their father announced, fixing his cuff-link.

"Yes, father," he answered obediently, following father out the door without a backwards glance.

Lyra glared at the wooden doors, her eyes following the swirls and dips that detailed it. She should be able to have some privileges for doing as her father asked for two years. Everything had changed because of it. She had been forced to look at her beliefs and what they really meant. Her thought processes had changed, her vices. She had to hide her true feelings about muggleborns and blood purity, because otherwise she would be labeled as a blood traitor. Merlin, even her fears had changed! Or maybe that had been what she had been afraid of all along. She had changed almost everything about her because of this task.

But still, he treated her the same.

Like she was a child, a useless side heir. She hated it. Draco was everything she was not. Emotional. Male. He held onto the traditional views and truly believed them. He had never been one to question father. Did all these things make him better than her?

Her father did not come back until nearly a week later, her brother muttering something about Bulgarian ambassadors and corpse-like Inferi.

"Father, I want to talk to you," she announced firmly, before her resolve could waiver.

He paused, undoing his tie as he turned to stare at her. "Very well."

He sat down on the elegant, velvet green couch across from her, making it his throne. He had a penchant for that, filling a room with his dominating presence. It was part of how he had gotten as far as he had in life.

Her mouth opened and closed, trying to form words she could not verbalize. She did not think it would be that simple. Now that he was here she didn't know what to do, or how to say it. Everything that came to her head sounded childish, which would only enforce his view of her.

"I hear you get along with the Flint boy. That is good news."

She nodded, shutting her mouth and glad to have her father talk until she could gather her thoughts.

"I'll admit it, I was worried about this pact. But there are so few purebloods to choose from."

"Where did you go?" she asked suddenly, staring at him.

Her father frowned, his brows sloping down with the motion. "On a business trip," he said in a clipped voice.

"Why can Draco know but not me? I'm only a year younger than him."

"You're not the heir. You know this. Lyra, I thought your mother had this conversation with you years ago."

"But it's more than that, isn't it?"

Lucius stopped undoing the top buttons of his shirt, taking in his daughter's defiant stance. She had his chin, he thought with pride. He could recognize that stubborn feature of his anywhere. "Come out with it. Say what you need to. Today has been a trying day. And stop that nefarious chewing of your cheek. It's unbecoming for a lady of your stature."

She stopped the motion, not even realizing that she had begun it. "Why is Draco better than me?"

Her father's lips slightly parted as he stared at her in something akin to shock. But it couldn't be that. It was almost impossible to surprise her father, let alone be able to see that emotion on his face.

"Lyra Druella, what in the world are you talking about?"

"I mean," she said, gaining momentum. "That no matter what I do I can never gain your favor. Draco _always_ has it, but I'm lucky just to get a 'well done.' You love Draco. You give him everything he wants."

"I give you everything you want also," he interrupted.

"No you don't," she shouted, blinking back angry tears. "All my life I've tried to gain your favor. I'm better at hiding emotions than Draco. He's disgraceful, but when he goes out tarnishing the Malfoy name you give him a pat on the back and say it's alright! If I did that you would _hate_ me! I got in Gryffindor like you asked, something Draco would have never been able to do! But you just say well done! You smile at Draco! I can count on one hand the amount of times you've smiled at me this year. Do you want to know how many? Twice. You've smiled at me two times!"

"Lyra," he whispered. "I could never hate you."

"Yes, you can!" she burst. "And you do! I'm never good enough, and I never will be no matter how hard I try. I've done everything you've ever asked of me. Everything. But still Draco is best." She couldn't bring herself to care about the rivulets that were making their way down her cheeks, or how her hands trembled in her lap despite how hard she fought to make them stop their traitorous movements. All she could see was her father, and the unfathomable look on his face as she finally confronted him.

"I changed my whole being because of you. I'm not me anymore. I just don't understand," she said, trying to get her words out before her sobs took over her voice and made it too mangled to understand. She stood up, a fierce glare on her face as she looked her father down. "I'm a blood traitor because of you," she said in a voice as smooth as the wind. "Not on the outside, but on the inside. You made me this way. I was forced to see muggleborns in a whole new light. They don't have stolen magic, and some of them are better at magic than purebloods. Believe me, I tried to prove your words correct. But at every turn I was proved wrong."

"Be quiet," he hissed, eyes narrowing.

"No, I will not! Father, I'm a blood traitor! You'll have to burn me off the family tree because-"

"Silence!" he bellowed, shocking her into submission. He marched over to her, intimidating her into silence. "I don't ever want to hear you say that again. Are we clear?"

A stray hair tickled her arm. She brushed it away before hurriedly nodding, his voice shocking her out of her emotional outburst. "I understand."

"Good," he said, turning around. "Those words aren't safe. People would _hurt_ you for saying them. Don't ever say them again."

"Yes, father," she said softly with a sniffle.

She watched her father's strong shoulders sag, and a sigh leave his throat. "We tried to raise you well, like a good pureblood. But you and your brother turned out to be so different despite our vigilant care. Your brother is so desperate to prove himself, wishing so much to be exactly like me. Your needs are different. Your mother and I have always known this. You didn't need constant affection like him. You had always been fiercely independent while your brother enjoyed sticking near our shadows. You flourished more when you had to struggle and fight for your way, while your brother did best with constant guidance. If I had known how this was affecting you, I would not have…" he trailed off, staring out the window into the shadowed garden, the moon lighting contouring the grounds into something strange and sinister. "We raised you differently not because we love Draco more, but because you both are very different people. Tell me, would you have liked us to watch over you with us giving you so much direction?"

She would have felt stifled. "No."

"You needed something different," he enunciated carefully. He turned around, looking so very sad and distraught that her eyes had widened in shock. She understood then, finally, what he had been telling her all along. Her father did love her; he loved her just as much as he loved Draco. He'd watched her from afar as she grew, only stepping in when she lost her way. Only when she needed him the most, because that was the only time she ever did. It wasn't out of favoritism that Draco got all their parents attention, it was because their wishes were different.

"I'm sorry father," she whispered, hiding her face behind a curtain of hair.

He stared at her, reaching over to grab a piece of her dangling hair and rub it between thumb and forefinger. "It's an odd process, realizing that your parents are not gods you believe them to be. They're people as reachable and capable of making mistakes as you are. They're not omniscient, and do not know everything despite what they may make you think. I'm not sure if Draco will ever realize this."

No, Draco still looked at father like he could move the sun and earth with just will alone. Even at fourteen.

"Despite the fact that he's physically older, mentally you are his elder. I need you to watch out for him. He often gets stuck in his mistakes and looks to me to pull him out of them. I won't always be there to fix them." He stared down at her, placing a lock of white blonde hair behind her ear.

"I'll help him," she agreed, staring up at him. She closed her eyes as he ran a hand down her cheek, turning her face into the caress.

* * *

She watched as her mother ascended up the metal stairs, looking as if she smelled something vulgar.

"There weren't better seats than this? There's too many… _common_ people here," she said, with a frown.

"I assure you these are the best seats Narcissa. Only the best, I assure you." Her father's cane made a loud thud each time it touched the stairs, keeping Lyra's attention focused on it. She wasn't sure why her father kept it. She knew it was grandfather's cane before it was her father's. Perhaps that was why, because she knew her great-grandfather never had such a thing.

Draco was almost uncontainable, his body brimming with excitement. Draco was much more of a Quidditch enthusiast than Lyra. Honestly Lyra only came to get out of the house. She barely ever went to Quidditch games at school either. Ever since she had fallen off her play broom at five and Draco had laughed at her she had been adamant that Quidditch was an insipid and useless sport. Throughout the years she had become less opinionated about it, but it was still how she felt.

"Ah, Fudge," her father said once he got to the top, blocking out her view. "How are you? I don't think you've met my wife, Narcissa? Or our children, Draco and Lyra?"

Her brows rose. Lyra wasn't sure how her father was undermining Fudge, but apparently the minister of magic didn't have a clue about it. At this point Lyra almost thought it was a family tradition to do this, since she had found out her grandfather Abraxas had done so also. Recently she discovered that her great-great-etc-etc grandfather Septimus had apparently started this tradition, making the current prime minister of his time, Unctuous Osbert, Septimus' puppet while in office.

"How do you do, how do you do?" said Fudge, smiling and bowing to her mother. "And allow me to introduce you to Mr. Oblansk — Obalonsk — Mr. — well, he's the Bulgarian Minister of Magic, and he can't understand a word I'm saying anyway, so never mind. And let's see who else — you know Arthur Weasley, I daresay?"

Lyra attempted to raise herself on tippy-toes, searching for her friend Ginny. Of course, if Ginny was there that probably meant the youngest Weasley boy was there too, but she would cut her loses. It was worth it to see her friend.

"What are you doing? Stop it," her brother hissed, pushing her further away from him. She glared, giving up and inching closer to her mother who placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

"Good lord, Arthur," father said finally, his voice mocking. "What did you have to sell to get seats in the Top Box? Surely your house wouldn't have fetched this much?"

"Lucius has just given a very generous contribution to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, Arthur. He's here as my guest," Fudge said, either ignoring her father's comment altogether or not hearing it.

"How — how nice," she heard Mr. Weasley say. Finally she gave up, shoving past her brother who practically snarled at her to get a better look at who was present. The whole Golden Trio was there, much to her dismay, along with the troublesome twins. There were even some Weasley boys she had never seen to her surprise. Her father was not joking about them having a dozen and one kids, but then again her father didn't really joke.

"Lyra!" Ginny screeched, racing over and practically mauling her while she wrapped her arms around Lyra's neck and squeezed. "You're shorter."

"You're taller," Lyra said, rolling her eyes as she gave her a pat on the back.

"I don't get how she's friends with that blood purist," Ron muttered darkly. Ginny whipped her head around at him and whatever look she had on her face must have been traumatizing because he became a pallid green.

"Everyone ready?" the announcer asked, his round face gleaming like a great, excited Edam. "Minister — ready to go?"

"Ready when you are, Ludo," said Fudge comfortably, reclining in his chair.

Lyra and Ginny hurried over to their seats as Ludo began his introductions. It was a clear divide between their families, light blonde on one side and reddish-orange on the other. Her father gave Lyra a distasteful look, but said nothing. Her brother was too distracted by the leprechauns and veelas to care about anything Lyra was doing.

"Harry, what are you doing?" said the know-it-all in a shrill voice. Much to Lyra's amusement Harry Potter had tried to climb out the box to get closer to the veelas. Of course, he almost fell to his death by doing so. The box was a ways up from the closest bench.

It turned out watching people watch Quidditch was much more amusing, because throughout the match the Weasley patriarch screeched, wizards of all kinds mindlessly fell under the spells of the veela's dancing (even the wizards with wives were not safe), and Ginny about fell out of the tower when one of her favorite seekers crashed into the ground after messing up a Wronski Feint.

"I thought about sending Draco to Durmstrang," her father said upon seeing Victor Krum grab the snitch, effectively ending the game. It was pitiful how horribly the Bulgarian team had played. "But I decided to keep with the Malfoy tradition of Hogwarts. I even thought about sending you Lyra. Of course, that was before our _conversation_." He arched a brow at her with the trademark Malfoy smirk.

Even if she hadn't been embroiled in this plan of his she was glad she was sent to Hogwarts. They did not view women as highly at Durmstrang as they did here, and she did not speak Bulgarian or Swedish or Norwegian. All she spoke was French, and even that wasn't very good. Draco was much better, but then again he got to go on a lot of trips to France with father on business, getting hands on experience of the language every summer.

Her mother clapped daintily and when she noticed her mother's sideways glance Lyra copied her, straightening her posture and pulling her feet from under her.

"Forget your bloody clapping Lyra! Give them a rising ovation! Ireland won!" Ginny hooted, jumping in the air.

Mr. Weasley didn't even correct her implorable language, being too busy celebrating himself.

"It is time to go," Lucius Malfoy announced with a disdainful look at their box mates.

"We're leaving? But father, I thought we were going to stay until-"

"Hush, Draco." Their father whipped around, his white blonde hair following the motion. "We're getting your mother and sister back home."

"Why can't I stay?" Lyra asked, feeling put out.

"Do you like Quidditch?" her father asked dryly.

"Well, no," Lyra answered hesitantly.

"Do you like watching me converse with colleagues?"

Every year at the Christmas party her family threw she watched her father do that. It didn't look very fun, and most of the time they were throwing hidden barbs at each other. "No."

"That is why you are going home."

Lyra and her mother were sent home soon afterwards. It wasn't until late at night that her father and brother came back home. Lyra had been enjoying her terrace, watching the moon from where she sat as the occasional bird flew across it. A loud pop resonated throughout the garden. Lyra could see her father and brother among the fireflies. She watched with wide eyes as her father ripped off his hood, peeling off the bone-white mask beneath it.

* * *

I decided to make a twitter for people who may want to follow me when it comes to fanfictions and original fiction. Not sure if anyone here is even interested in something like that, but I figured I'd try it out. My twitter is b_suchocki for the people who like this sort of thing.


	11. Chapter 11

This chapter is dedicated to Allie. Thanks for reviewing almost every chapter! I always enjoy reading your reviews. :)

* * *

Chapter 11

* * *

Lyra smiled as her best friend slammed the trolley door closed in a flourish, practically jumping on top of Lyra in some semblance of a hug.

"I missed you so much Lyra! We should hang out during the summer! I don't know why we never do."

Probably because Romilda was always so caught up in her story book romances each summer, but then again Lyra had never suggested it either. Not that it would be easy to convince her parents that this was needed in order to keep her 'cover.'

"All your letters were about that Robby guy. What else were you up to?"

Romilda flushed, her hair draping onto her face as she stared near the floor. "Robby was amazing Lyra. He was so sweet!"

Lyra remembered reading in Romilda's letters how he always opened doors for her, and held her hand all the time. Lyra had never felt much draw from that strange tradition that boys and girls seemed to uphold. Did holding hands make someone closer?

"I let him touch me," Romilda whispered, glancing up to catch Lyra's expression with some worry.

Lyra's eyes bulged.

Lyra was pretty sure she had never looked so undignified in her life. "What do you mean you let him touch you? As in _touch_? Or touch, touch?"

" _Touch_ ," Romilda confirmed gravely. She sighed, staring up at the ceiling as she sprawled out across the bench. "He was just so _charming_."

Lyra quieted. "Was it… nice?"

"Oh, Lyra! It was so nice! I mean, it was weird at first," Romilda said with a thoughtful expression, brows drawn and lips scrunched. "But then it was nice!"

"Girls!" Ginny shouted, slamming the trolley door open rambunctiously. The whole compartment rattled with how roughly she did it. "What have your summers been like? Lyra, you grew boobs! Why didn't I see them at the Quidditch match?"

Probably because her mother had been insisting on that baggy cloak.

"No I didn't!" Lyra shouted immediately, bringing a self-conscious hand up to her chest. She had been sorely lacking in that department before. Lyra had been flatter than a board until now. Romilda and Mary still had bigger boobs, despite Lyra's sudden growth spurt. Lyra's were nothing to brag about, but at least she had them unlike before. "Romilda is letting boys touch her privates!" Lyra burst out in a panic, hoping desperately to take the attention off of her own budding femininity.

It was quite comical the look Ginny made on her face, glancing back and forth between Lyra's expectant expression and Romilda's horrified one.

"Lyra!" Romilda finally said. "Just shout it to the world!"

"Sorry! Sorry! I didn't mean to! I just couldn't-" Lyra trailed off, glancing at Romilda sheepishly.

Ginny slammed the door shut, hurrying over to Romilda. "Are you serious? You can't be, can you?"

A dreamy look passed across Romilda's face making Ginny burst out into little giggles. The door opened once again, this time a head of familiar brown appeared.

"It was so hard finding you guys! Why did you guys have to pick the _very_ last trolly?" Mary complained, staring at them petulantly. "I thought I passed you."

"Romilda is a right floozy now Mary," Ginny said proudly.

"Shut it!" Romila screeched, burning red. But the smile on her face gave her away.

"What does that even mean?" Mary snorted, shoving her trunk away with some difficulty before sitting next to Lyra.

"It means Romilda has moved onto more than kissing," Lyra whispered.

"WHAT!? ROMILDA HAS BEEN HAVING IT OFF IN SOME BROOM-"

"No, no, no!" Romilda hurried to cut Mary off with wide eyes. "We touched! You know? Touched each other? That's all." Romilda gestured towards the general direction of her chest, and then after hesitating pointed towards her lower parts too.

Mary's mouth opened then closed, before repeating the gesture. "Good." When Mary realized what she said, she burned scarlet. "I mean, it's not good! Wait, not that it's bad. It's neither good nor bad. I-ugh," she stuttered out, giving up with a face palm. Romilda and Ginny giggled before trading their kiss stories.

Ginny and Romilda had always been more adventurous than Lyra and Mary. Both of them had their first kiss last year. Mary was waiting on someone special, but Lyra didn't see the point in kissing anybody. She was already betrothed. Her parents had done all the work for her. She wouldn't have to go through heart break and crying and chasing after boys that would never want her. It was a relief, really.

At least in Lyra's eyes. When she shared this with the girls last year they looked at her as if she was a blast-ended skrewt that had been let loose on Hogwart's grounds.

"He kind of looked like Harry, now that I think about it," Romilda said absentmindedly, rubbing her chin. "He had black hair, although his eyes were blue. He even wore glasses, not round though. No one wears round glasses but Harry Potter."

"I think it's a tradition," Ginny muttered. "My mum said Harry's dad wore circular glasses too."

"What a strange tradition," Romilda frowned.

Ginny shrugged. "Purebloods have all sorts of wonky customs. The Prewetts have always done the sweater thing, which is why my mum always gives them away at Christmas. She was a Prewett before she got married. The Malfoys have that no facial expression thing too."

"All purebloods do that!" Lyra said indignantly.

"Only in the political arena, or big parties. Your family does it all the time. Seriously, does your dad even know how to smile?"

"Yes! Of course he can!" None of her friends looked convinced. Honestly if she hadn't seen her father smile herself she wouldn't believe it either. "We're just a very private family," Lyra said firmly.

Ginny shrugged before turning to Romilda. Mary shifted slightly to look at Lyra.

"Are you excited about being able to go to Hogsmeade this year?"

* * *

Romilda Vane had always had a crush on Harry Potter, but this year she seemed to obsess over him. The train ride to Hogwarts had been brutal, the final carriage ride to the castle grueling. By the time they got to the feast Lyra almost hated Harry Potter.

"Seriously Romilda, I get that you like Harry Potter but you're driving me insane," Mary whispered with a glare.

"How can you not feel the same way? Ginny does!" Romilda defended.

"Hey!" Ginny growled with a glare.

"Because he's just a scrawny little kid." Mary paused, before adding. "And Lyra doesn't like Harry Potter. What about her?"

Romilda's nose wrinkled in distaste. "Lyra never likes anyone. I don't think she's human."

Lyra glared, practically throwing herself into her seat to make exactly what she thought of that opinion clear.

"Don't be catty Romilda," Ginny said. "It doesn't suit you."

Romilda snorted. "What are you talking about? My loud mouth and cattiness make up about half of my personality."

Mary snickered, even Lyra's lips turned up. The hat began its yearly song, but quite frankly Lyra blocked it out. It got boring after the first two times. Surprisingly, Colin Creevey's brother was sorted this year. He ended up being a Gryffindor just like his brother. Lyra didn't think a muggleborn family could possibly have another magical child, but clearly she was wrong.

The new Creevey seemed just as scatter brained as Colin, because as soon as he was sorted Lyra heard him say something about falling into the lake and the giant squid pushing him back into the boat. He sounded almost as hopeless as Neville Longbottom, who currently was eyeing an apple tart with an almost constipated expression.

"Now that we're all fed and watered I must ask once more for your attention," Dumbledore announced in his trademark wispy voice. "It is my painful duty to inform you that the Inter-House Quidditch Cup will not take place this year."

"What?" she heard Potter gasp from further down the table. Lyra couldn't help the stirring of guilt that spread through her at the mention of the word 'Quidditch.'

The paper that came out the next day after the Bulgaria vs. Ireland Cup made it glaringly obvious what had happened that night. When she had tried to press her brother for details he remained tight-lipped, only stating that Potter almost got arrested and it served him right. She had admitted to herself that her father had something to do with the Deatheater attack, but she couldn't bring herself to say it out loud. Maybe he was only there for moral support; maybe he really didn't hurt those muggleborns. She didn't want to believe her father was a killer, or hurt people for pleasure. He didn't act like he was that type of person. He wasn't like the Carrows or Yaxley, not even the Lestranges. He treated his family kindly, and loved her mother. Not once had her father laid a hand on Lyra, deciding to take away privileges instead.

She couldn't connect this person with her father. It couldn't be him.

"This is due to an event that will be starting in October and continuing throughout the school year, taking up much of the teachers' time and energy — but I am sure you will all enjoy it immensely. I have great pleasure in announcing that this year at Hogwarts —"

Suddenly the doors of the Great Hall banged open. Lyra knew who it was almost immediately, the swirling ice blue eyes giving it away instantly. She had seen him before in tabloids and such as he was a famous wizard, and an amazing auror at that. He was even pureblood, although a blood traitor.

Dumbledore cleared his throat, ignoring the interruption. He plowed on even though it was clear most of the student's attention was on their new visitor.

"As I was saying," he said, smiling at the sea of students before him, "we are to have the honor of hosting a very exciting event over the coming months, an event that has not been held for over a century. It is my very great pleasure to inform you that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year."

"You're JOKING!" said Fred Weasley loudly. Many of the students laughed, but not the Slytherins and not Lyra. Ever since she heard the twins liked to hex random Slytherins she had avoided them, lest they confuse her for one too.

"I am not joking, Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore said with a chuckle. "Though now that you mention it, I did hear an excellent one over the summer about a troll, a hag, and a leprechaun who all go into a bar . . ."

Professor McGonagall cleared her throat loudly.

"Er — but maybe this is not the time... no..." said Dumbledore, "where was I? Ah yes, the Triwizard Tournament," the scatter brained wizard continued."Well, some of you will not know what this tournament involves, so I hope those who do know will forgive me for giving a short explanation, and allow their attention to wander freely."

Dumbledore then proceeded to give a big speech about the Triwizard Tournament, saying that it consisted of three students all from different schools and that many had died from it. After that, Lyra's attention had begun to wane. It would be glorious to get all that valor from winning such a competition, but not for her life. She was further validated when Dumbledore stated when no witch or wizard under age could participate. She grabbed a nearby lemon tart after that, taking delicate bites as she pretended to pay attention.

"And now, it is late, and I know how important it is to you all to be alert and rested as you enter your lessons tomorrow morning. Bedtime! Chop chop!" Dumbledore finished.

"When do the other schools come?" Lyra asked.

Ginny arched a brow at her. "In October. Weren't you listening?"

Lyra smirked, joining her friends as they walked to the Gryffindor common room.

"Password?" the fat lady said as they approached. "Balderdash," said a prefect from behind them, primly folding her hands together at her waist.

As she lay in bed her mind wandered to the conversation she held with her father the day before.

 _"I'm sure you'll be relieved to hear my plan will succeed in about a year, by the time you become a fourth year. Then we can get you out of that deplorable house and back to where you have always belonged."_

 _"What?" Lyra asked_ _startled_ _, sitting up straight._

 _"Do not use that infernal word like that. It's unfitting," her father reprimanded. "And do I really need to repeat myself."_

 _"I- no."_

 _She turned away, a troubled look on her face. It almost felt like this day would never come. Her father had been planning this for at least three years now._

 _"How can I be re-sorted? A house is supposed to be permanent."_

 _Her father gave her a look filled with derision. "A Malfoy always gets what they wants."_

It had frightened her, hearing that her time at Gryffindor would be coming to an end. It may mean the end of the friendships she had created. She was almost certain she could not convince her father to allow her to continue with them after getting what he needed. She didn't want to lose Ginny, so head strong and brave; nor Romilda, as giggly and playful as a puffskein.

And Mary.

There would never be a chance to be friends with her. Lyra would never be allowed to see her again, commanded to be silent, distant, and cold. Lyra didn't want it to be that way. She enjoyed Mary and their friendship.

But that was the only way it could be.

She laid in bed, staring at the red canopy above her head and wondered how much longer it would be this way.

* * *

A/N: Some of the sentences in this chapter are directly from the book, particularly when Dumbledore speaks.

Just a little update. I'm currently working on chapter 36, which is Lyra's fifth year. This may be around fifty chapters, which is my guess at this point.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

* * *

As much as Lyra loved her brother she could admit he was a bit annoying.

At this moment he was off teasing the youngest Weasley boy about his father. Thank Merlin Ginny wasn't there or else Lyra would have to do some damage control. As it was, Ginny was off giggling with some Hufflepuff boy named Arthur Urquart, who Lyra only knew because Professor McGonagall was his great aunt or something of the like. It was bad news to date family members of teachers, but Ginny would hear nothing of it.

"And there's a picture, Weasley!" Draco said loudly, flipping the paper over and holding it up for all to see. "A picture of your parents outside their house — if you can call it a house! Your mother could do with losing a bit of weight, couldn't she?"

Lyra clenched her teeth, attempting to look inconspicuous. The next time she cued in they were insulting each other's mothers apparently. Lyra didn't want to fight her brother's battles though. He had started it, and he could finish it.

 _"I need you to watch out for your brother. He often gets stuck in his mistakes and needs help getting out of them."_

She grumbled under her breath, a very un-Malfoy thing to do, and heaved herself up to head over to where her brother was.

"Keep your fat mouth shut, then," said Potter, turning away in an attempt to finish the argument. Her brother brought his wand up, going to cast a spell as Potter's back was turned.

But he didn't get that far.

One moment her brother was a normal, blonde headed boy and the next he was a dancing ferret. Professor Moody was shouting things at him, slamming Draco down on the unforgiving ground. Lyra didn't think, she acted.

"Stupify!"

Immediately Moody froze up and fell straight upon his face, a cloud of dust encircling him before leaving a light coat of dirt on his person. Mary stood next to her in abject horror, but Lyra didn't care. "Draco! Draco, are you all right?"

She wrapped him in her arms, rocking the shaking creature as she attempted to calm him. She turned to her friend.

"Mary! Help me change him back!"

"Me?" Mary said incredulously. "You just cursed a professor!"

Lyra could care less. If she got expelled it would be worth it, and she was almost certain that teachers were not allowed to smash their students into the dirt like Moody just did.

"Besides," Mary added. "I don't know the counter-curse."

"Oi! What do you think you're doing?" Ron Weasley asked, marching over to her.

"Oh shut it, Weasley," she said irritably, ignoring him.

"You're going to be expelled now," he gloated. "Your brother deserved it. He's a right ferret."

Some of the students chuckled nervously at the quip.

"You're going to be next Weasley," she screeched, giving up all protocol and losing her temper. "You've no right!"

"Then control your git of a brother Malfoy!"

"He makes his own decisions! I'm not his mother!"

"Then his own decision turned him into the Amazing Bouncing Ferret!"

More laughter spread throughout the area. Her skin burned in anger.

"Your decision is about to earn you a bloody nose!"

"Students!" a stern voice interrupted before Weasley could retaliate. "What in the world is going on?"

Lyra was too wound up to say anything to Professor McGonagall. To her embarrassment, a stray tear of anger slid down her face. She held her ground as Moody was given the counter-curse. He shouted something nasty before attempting to curse her too before McGonagall intervened.

"Professor Moody!" McGonagall said shocked after blocking the hex.

It was then explained, in a bit scrambled way from the nearby students and the fuming Moody exactly what happened. The stern faced woman appeared aghast, immediately changing Lyra's brother back. Lyra attempted to give Draco a hug but he shoved her off, already humiliated and embarrassed enough. His pride had taken a hit and his little sister fawning over him was not helping.

"My father will hear of this," she heard him mutter under his breath.

"Oh yeah?" said Moody quietly, limping forward a few steps, the dull _clunk_ of his wooden leg echoing around in the courtyard. "Well, I know your father of old, boy... You tell him Moody's keeping a close eye on his son... you tell him that from me... Now, your Head of House'll be Snape, will it?"

"He's not getting in anymore trouble," Lyra announced with a nasty look.

His ice blue eye trained itself on her. "Don't think I've forgotten about you, girl."

"Miss Malfoy, your brother attempted to curse a student. He-"

"I don't care!" she shouted. "Moody just transfigured him into a _ferret_ and beat him up! Moody should be going to jail. He should be fired. He's no teacher!"

McGonagall paled, but Moody looked mutinous.

"You think your father is going to save you, is that it?"

"I don't need my father to save me!" she lied, clutching onto her wand tightly. She turned to McGonagall. "My brother has already been punished by Moody. He's not getting another one."

" _Professor_ Moody," McGonagall corrected. "And we do not threaten students Moody!" Professor McGonagall sighed, rubbing at her temples tiredly. "Let us see Dumbledore, shall we?"

In the end they called in her father, telling him exactly what had happened. Her father had threatened to get the board involved; Professor Dumbledore said there was no need for that and it could be resolved amongst themselves. Moody pressed to punish her brother further; he was denied and instead Lyra was punished for placing a spell on a teacher. Her father wasn't happy with that, announcing in a clipped tone that the ministry would be hearing about this. He wanted Moody gone, but Dumbledore would not budge. Her father did tell her he was proud of her for standing up for her brother afterwards, which made Lyra flush in pride.

"You got a whole month of detentions?" Mary said in a shocked voice. "I thought for sure you would be expelled, or at least suspended."

"He deserved it," Lyra muttered mutinously, glaring at the wall. Her hands still shook, which she concealed by hiding them in her lap underneath the folds of her skirt. Lyra knew that Mad-Eye Moody would be watching her from now on. He was a strong wizard, someone many people feared. All Lyra seemed to do was make enemies. Soon enough everyone would be against her, but she couldn't help it. If only Draco could shut his trap, she thought irritably.

"At least it's with McGonagall. She's not too bad. She'll just make you clean trophies or something equally boring," Ginny added, sizing up her nails. She twisted towards Lyra. "I don't get it. You're so different from your brother. He's so…."

Snarky? A bully? Rude? Mean? Take your pick.

"Yeah," she said softly. "We've always been different. It's not like all your brothers are the same either."

"But they're all nice. Except Percy. He's always got a broom stick stuck up his arse."

Lyra burst into laughter, not expecting the sudden barb from Ginny.

Romilda erupted into the dorm in a gust of wind, the door slamming into the stone walls startling all of them. "Guess what everyone?"

"What?" Ginny asked, throwing a splintered snitch into the air before catching it.

Romilda beamed with pride. "I joined the Harry Potter fan club."

" _What?_ " Ginny asked, taken aback.

"Oh don't worry. It's not too late for you to join too. I got voted in as vice president. Isn't that exciting?"

"I don't wanna join some rubbish club!"

Romilda's brows scrunched in confusion. "But you like him too."

Ginny burned as red as her hair. "That doesn't mean I want to join a bloody fan club."

Romilda shrugged. "To each their own, I guess."

Lyra gripped her pillow tightly, squeezing it to her chest and laid down facing the opposite way.

Merlin, help her.

* * *

A/N: Some of the sentences in this chapter are directly from the book, particularly when Draco, Professor McGonagall, and Moody speaks.

Guest Comments:

Allie- I'm on chapter forty right now so I don't think that's gonna happen haha

BookwormLovesMusic- Thank you so much!

Guest- Thank you haha life is this ;)


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

* * *

It turned out Lyra was destined to always be at odds with Professor Moody. She had marched out of his classroom the moment he began placing Unforgivable's on those spiders. It had earned her another two weeks of detention, but she didn't care. Moody was all people talked about no matter where she went. He was mad, completely barmy. He was always shouting CONSTANT VIGILANCE and watching all the students with his swirling blue eye. She was almost convinced he could see through walls with it. She was glad Dumbledore had decided only third year and up could be placed through the Imperious.

Moody was driving her insane.

Then there was Hermione with her weird S.P.E.W campaign. She was practically the laughing stock of Hogwarts. House elves _liked_ taking care of people, something the know-it-all didn't seem to get. They were slaves of their own free will. No one could stop them from snapping their fingers and disappearing. They could leave whenever they wanted. Lyra could understand fighting for house elves to be free of abuse, but not to be free. The sudden split from their owners would surely cause more bad than good.

October finally came, and with that the students from both Durmstrang and Beauxbatons. McGonagall was looking over her Gryffindor students, telling them to fix this or tidy up that before the rival schools arrived.

"Weasley, straighten your hat," Professor McGonagall snapped at Ron. "Miss Patil, take that ridiculous thing out of your hair."

Parvati scowled and removed a large ornamental butterfly from the end of her plait.

"Are you excited?" a voice from beside her whispered. Colin stared out with round eyes, clutching the edge of his camera tightly. He snapped a picture of the assembled students, before glancing her way and taking one of Lyra as well.

"Sorry," he murmured, not appearing to be in the slightest.

"I should be used to it."

He grinned. "Have you seen my brother before?" He pointed over towards a gangly, mousy brown haired first year that was trembling in excitement near the front row.

"I've seen him," she agreed with a nod.

"I heard that some Beauxbatons students have Veela in them."

Lyra rolled her eyes. Maybe then his muse would change for the year. Veela's are undeniably beautiful, at least until you made one angry.

"Aha!" said Dumbledore. "Unless I am very much mistaken, the delegation from Beauxbatons approaches!"

"Where?" said many students eagerly, all looking in different directions.

"There!" yelled a sixth year, pointing over the forest.

"It's a dragon!" shrieked one of the first years, losing her head completely.

"Don't be stupid... it's a flying house!" said Dennis Creevey, making Lyra giggle. Colin glanced at her with a smile, but then hurried to snap as many pictures as he could.

The carriage landed roughly, leaving skid marks in the grass after it. Then the largest woman Lyra had ever seen exited the carriage. Lyra clapped along with the other students, hiding a smile as the women said 'Dumbly-dorr.' All of the students of Beauxbatons wore a silky blue and stared at the castle dubiously.

The Durmstrang students followed after a few minutes of waiting. The only big difference being Victor Krum was one of its students.

"Harry— it's Krum!" she heard Ronald Weasley whisper yell. She rolled her eyes, but couldn't help agree. She didn't like quidditch or anything, but it was pretty amazing to have a celebrity at Hogwarts. She watched him with keen eyes, taking in a prominent curved nose and thick black eyebrows. Almost as thick as her betrothed, come to think of it.

Hogwarts had suddenly become interesting.

Even with all the excitement that night, Lyra still had detention. She had just finished up her last detention with McGonagall. All she had left was Moody's two weeks, which she was dreading. She was certain he would make her do something horrid.

Lyra would have complained to her father, but she didn't want to bring him into this. She felt validated after their talk that summer, as if he had finally acknowledged her. It made Lyra feel stronger, and she didn't want to ruin that view he had of her. She would have to suffer through Moody's detention. There was no other option.

"Ah, how nice of you to arrive. Was beginning to think you wouldn't show up," he grumbled.

"I'm only two minutes late," she muttered under her breath.

"What was that girl?" His glass eye swirled in its metal socket.

She coughed. "I'm sorry I'm late." She paused, glancing around the room. "So what will it be? Cleaning? Searching down lost items? Organizing old records?"

"Put your wand away, you won't need it."

She hesitated, before placing her wand in its holster. Lyra watched him unblinking, not trusting him enough to give him even half a second to get an advantage.

"Tonight we will be doing something more… _unforgivable_."

Her eyes widened in understanding.

"But sir, I-"

"SILENCE! You wouldn't have to if you could keep yer yap shut!" She became quiet, glaring at the floor even as she began to tremble. He could make her do anything he wanted her to, and she would be powerless against it. Moody brought his wand up to her, pointing it eye level to her. " _Imperio._ "

All at once everything ceased to matter. She forgot all the things that had been plaguing her, like what would happen at the end of the year when her father's plan bore fruit, and the exam she had in Transfiguration tomorrow. She could only feel contentedness, a restfulness spreading throughout her body.

 _Jump in the air_ , a far away voice said. _Crawl like a bug._

So she did. Why would she not?

Everything felt so calming a peaceful. Lyra couldn't remember ever feeling like this. It was nice for a change. All too soon she came back into herself, Moody standing over her in disgust. "You're weak, just like your father."

"My father isn't weak," she whispered, tears of embarrassment filling her eyes. She had succumbed to the Imperious so easily.

"Again!"

"I don't want to-"

But he didn't wait.

* * *

"Lyra! What happened?" Ginny said as soon as she saw her.

Lyra wiped at her face, attempting to stop the tears from falling. "Nothing," she muttered, hurrying to her bed to change to her night clothes.

"I thought she had detention with- _oh_ ," Romilda trailed off.

"Are you alright?" Mary asked softly.

No.

"I'm fine," she said, turning towards the wall and pulling the covers over her.

"What happened? What did Professor Moody do?" Mary placed her book on her bed.

"Nothing. I don't want to talk about it," she sniffed, closing her eyes. She couldn't take another moment of Moody cursing her. But she still had another detention with him. For three hours he had placed her under the Imperious, and not once had she succeeded in beating him. Full grown wizards couldn't do it, why would she be able to? Everything hurt, especially her head. Lyra wasn't sure if she'd ever be able to stand up to Professor Moody again. He had made her do things, disgustingly horrible things that she'd never dreamed of doing. She could never look him in the eyes again.

One more time. She just had to get through it one more time.

Could she?

* * *

When Potter's name was called from the goblet Lyra should not have felt surprise. Everything always happened to him. He looked just as shocked as everyone else. The whole hall broke out in whispers, her brother looking the surliest out of all of them. The whole Gryffindor common room was celebrating by the time Lyra got back. Potter was getting patted on the back, congratulations thrown his way despite how much he seemed to deny partaking in any part of placing his name in the Goblet of Fire.

"You don't look too good."

She glanced to the side to see Colin watching her, his camera hanging around his neck by a secure rope.

"I don't feel too good either."

She had dark circles under her eyes, her skin paler than usual. Her hair was limp and by the end of the day always disheveled. Lyra was anxious about the last detention she had to receive with Moody. It made it hard to sleep at night, trepidation leaking through her as the days drew nearer.

"Want to talk about it?"

"Not particularly," she said dryly.

He shrugged, snapping a picture of her. She glared, crossing her arms across her chest.

"You just got done telling me I look horrid and then you take a picture of me?"

"That doesn't make you look any less artistic. See, it's beautiful."

He tried to show her the picture but she couldn't bring herself to look. She already knew she wouldn't see what he did when he stared at the photo.

"Does your brother like photography?" she asked, attempting to change the subject.

"A little. Not like I do."

"Aren't you going to go up to him?" she asked, gesturing towards Potter. She knew Colin practically hero worshipped the boy.

"I will, probably tomorrow when there's not so many people."

Besides, Potter looks a bit irritated at the moment. It wasn't very long until he made his getaway to the stairs leading to his dorm.

The next day it was the gossip of the castle about Ron Weasley and Harry Potter having some sort of fall out. There were a ton of rumors as to why this was, but Lyra didn't particularly care about that. It was good for Lyra. Perhaps the Weasley would be too distracted by Potter to make any snarky comments at her.

It seemed every house but Gryffindor hated them. Everyone had been particularly vicious to Gryffindors after Potter had been announced as a Triwizard Tournament champion. Hufflepuffs were usually very laid back, but now all they had were smart remarks for any Gryffindor they crossed paths with.

On the bright side her brother seemed to be sticking up for himself. He even attempted to curse Potter from what she'd heard. He ended up hitting Granger, but it was the thought that counts.

"Lyra, have you seen my scarf. It seems to have gone missing," an airy voice from behind her asked.

"I'm sorry Luna, I haven't seen it," Lyra said contritely. It was always a battle for Luna to find her items.

Luna shrugged, seeming very blasé about it all. "We have Herbology together today, don't we?"

Lyra winced, not feeling particularly excited about that. Herbology was still her worst subject. She had practically given up on getting a good grade in her class. Her goal every class was to find a partner that was a very hands on person, because the moment she touched anything it all went wrong. Lyra was willing to do all the written work.

At first she had attempted to partner with Luna, but Luna became so distracted by their assignments they usually didn't finish in time.

"We do," Lyra agreed.

The blonde nodded, going off to search for her scarf again.

* * *

She was floating carelessly through the wind, relaxed and at ease. _Stand on the desk_ , a voice whispered. A whimsical, intoxicating voice. _Bark like a dog_.

She came back into herself yelping, sitting down on her knees on top of the desk hiding behind her hair.

"You're weak like your father. Arrogant, privileged. All of you betrayers will get your due."

"I'm not weak," she whispered, but she spoke too low for him to even hear her.

"Malfoys have always been that way. Sucking up to the strongest opponents. Using their money to get what they want. You'd be nothing without it. Your money makes you everything."

Lyra didn't respond, hunching into herself with her arms crossed at her stomach. She wouldn't cry. She couldn't. If she did she'd have nothing left. He'd broken her down until there were only spare parts, and then he violently _Epoximised_ her together all the wrong way. She wouldn't listen to him anymore.

He continued to talk, but Lyra didn't hear any of it. All she could hear was the scratching of her index finger against the fraying desk beneath her, and a leak that steadily dripped from somewhere in the room.

The feeling overcame her again, of weightlessness and fallacious bravery. She could do anything and never get hurt.

 _Lick the desk. Like an animal._

The words popped in her head, and she had a vague recognition of Moody's voice. Her head went down, her forehead laying against the desk.

But her tongue stayed in her mouth.

 _Lick it. Lick it. Lick it,_ the voice whispered.

She clutched her head as liquid pain spread through her, burning her veins and capillaries until she could remember nothing but the words.

She breathed suddenly, her eyes slamming open as it all came to a stop. She realized her throat was raw, making it obvious that she had been screaming. Her hands still trembled even after the spell ended.

"That's enough. Wouldn't want you to end up like Longbottom's parents, would I?"

She took a gulp of air, slowly backing up on hands and knees towards the door with rounded eyes. Her eyes did not leave his; hers terrified and his gloating.

"I'm sure it won't be long until your next visit," he called after her.

She forced herself to take a step, then another. Until she finally lay in her bed at the dorm, trembling as she finally fell asleep.

It was over, she said to comfort herself, and from now on she'd make sure to stay out of Moody's way.

* * *

A/N: Some sentences in this chapter spoken by McGonagall and Dumbledore are directly from the book.

So I just did an outline of my story, mapping out which chapter entails which, and figured out this is going to be 65-70 chapters depending on this ending I do. A lot more than I anticipated haha I'm only on 42 right now, so I've written a little more than half.

Guest Reviews:

BookwormLovesMusic- Thanks! You'll have to stick around and see. ;)

Guest- I laughed way too hard at your review haha Ron and Harry did hate Draco Malfoy and Ron is a little more rash than Harry.


	14. Chapter 14

Thank you to Allie and the guest that reviewed last chapter!

* * *

Chapter 14

* * *

Imagine her shock when her brother, the self-proclaimed Prince of Slytherin, walked up to her that afternoon and sat next to her as she did her homework by the lake.

"Draco?"

He gave her a smile, if a bit hesitant one.

"Are you okay?" He eyed the tremor that sporadically hit her hand, arching a brow. "You just seem a bit… anxious."

She turned away."I'm fine."

"You don't seem fine."

"But I am," she bit back.

He sighed, peering down into his lap. "If something's wrong you can tell me."

She glanced at him, taking in his troubled features. She went back to hastily writing her essay on mandrakes and their side effects on phoenix ashes. "Why would something be wrong?"

"Is someone bullying you? We could always tell father. That would put an end to it."

Lyra scowled. "That will accomplish nothing."

"What do you mean?" he asked, genuinely puzzled. "Father fixes everything."

"Father isn't always going to be there. Sometimes you have to work things out for yourself."

It was clear that the thought had never even entered her brother's mind, his face horrified and frightened by the idea. "But he'll be here for a long time, won't he?"

Lyra shrugged. "I'm sure Professor Trelawney knows."

Draco choked, nudging her with an elbow. "Git."

She grinned, a bit lethargic and drained smile but a smile none-the-less. It was strange, joking with her brother. It was such a rare occurrence. He was usually too preoccupied with the colors of her tie to make any sort of small talk with her in passing.

"Your betrothed pesters me all the time. He wants letters and updates and the whole works. He's ridiculously obsessed."

Lyra turned a light shade of pink.

"I know, he sends me letters too."

"He's not… _unproper_ , is he?"

"Of course not!" she hurried out. "He's never done anything vulgar towards me."

"Not even hinted?"

"No! Merlin, why are you asking these questions?"

He looked away to stare at the lake. "No reason. I should go… Crabbe and Goyle get a bit lost without me."

"I bet," she muttered under her breath. She didn't have much hope for those two.

"You know, things would have been so different if you had ended up in Slytherin," her brother said as he walked away.

She gave him a weak grin. "I know."

* * *

She wasn't exactly sure how Colin had pulled her into this. She didn't even like Potter, let alone care about him enough to dedicate a whole Hogsmeade trip to him. But that's what she was doing.

Perhaps it was because both Ginny and Romilda had dates this weekend. Maybe it was because all Mary wanted to do was grab some candy at Honeydukes before heading back to study. All Lyra knew was she was stuck at The Three Broomsticks crowding around a dingy table with Colin and his brother as they attempted to change the 'Support Cedric Diggory' badges to 'Support Harry Potter.' All they had managed to do thus far was get rid of both slogans, leaving 'Potter Stinks" in its place. It amused Lyra to no end, but Dennis and Colin weren't as tickled.

"At least we turned the background from green to red," Lyra murmured, staring at her pin dejectedly.

"Slimey Slytherin's could do this, so can we!" Dennis said with vigor.

"Reparifarge!" she announced carefully, ignoring the small boy's quip. Her wand only made sparks: dull, copper colored ones.

"Lyra! What are you doing! We're trying to fix the badges, not change them back to what they were!" Colin cried.

"It's not like it worked anyways." She stared mutinously at the unchanged badge, poking it with her wand as if it were some strange, alien creature she was prodding.

"Probably because that's a sixth year spell," Colin said knowledgeably. Lyra only knew Professor McGonagall had said it when she changed Draco back from a ferret.

"Well I give up! Unless you're good at making up spells we might as well leave them be."

But Colin's foolish Gryffindor pride couldn't do that. She could see it in his eyes.

"I'm going to go Colin. Tell me if you ever get them to change." She left with a wave, downing her butterbeer as she went.

She wrapped her arms around herself and rubbed, attempting to get some warmth into her arms. It was beginning to get chilly out.

"Hello!"

A voice with a thick accent called out. She glanced back to see one of the Durmstrang students walking towards her. A brow rose, and she checked behind her to make sure the foreigner was actually calling to her. He grinned winningly at her when he got to her.

"You are Lyra Malfoy, are you not?"

Her nose twitched.

"Yes?"

"I thought so. The blonde hair is a giveaway."

Lyra shuffled back and forth on the balls of her feet, waiting for him to get to whatever he was trying to say to her. He smiled, this time more hesitantly.

"I thought to valk you to the castle, no?"

She gave him an odd look, but conceded. They began the trek up the hill to Hogwarts. She cleared her throat. "Is my father an associate of your own?"

"Yes. Our father's haff met many times."

Lyra was half tempted to ask him what he wanted straight out, but manors got the better of her. "Were you wanting to talk with my brother?"

"No."

"You wanted to talk with me?"

"Yes."

"Why?" she asked after a moment had passed. She watched him suspiciously from the peripherals of her eyes.

He gave her a grin, his teeth gleaming white. "I had to meet the Malfoy heiress. She vos said to haff renown beauty."

Her jaw clamped shut and she blushed, looking anywhere but at him as she stuffed her fist in her coat. "I see you're quite the charmer."

"I can only be called that if it is working."

Lyra didn't answer, not willing to be pulled into whatever game he was playing. She did not know if he was friend or foe, or how important her father's alliance was with this Bulgarian's family.

"It is a shame about you and Flint," he said in an almost biting manner, filling in the gap.

Her eyes narrowed. "Why?"

"He is lucky to be betrothed to a girl like you. Certainly you feel the same vay?"

Her face became ice. This wasn't a friendly encounter, this was the political arena; where every action counted and words were finite. She donned the mask she had placed to the side for months, fighting any lingering color in her cheeks to arch a brow at him. He had been probing her, easing his way into her defenses before she even realized she needed to put them up. At Hogwarts it was easy to put your guard down. There was no one testing your boundaries here.

"It matters not what I think. In the end it is my father's decision," she answered demurely, a perfectly neutral purebred response.

"You must feel something about this; he looks like a troll."

Lyra forced herself to relax, keeping the pleasant expression on her face. How to redirect this, she thought to herself. "Certainly you are bethrothed too?"

He grinned, a full faced grin that could not be faked. "No. Ve are still looking."

"We?" Normally only the patriarch and sometimes the mother had say in this subject.

"My family is traditional, but my father allovs me some input."

"Anyone in mind?"

Lyra wasn't sure how it worked in Bulgaria, but by now most of the purebloods in Britain had been partnered off. There was even some whisperings of her brother finally getting a contract. She wasn't sure how valid it was, considering she never saw her brother throwing any kind of fit about it. All Lyra could hope was Parkinson was not that girl. She couldn't deal with having the pug-faced witch as a sister-in-law. Her personality wasn't the best either.

"I vill be honest. I was hoping to find a contract abroad, namely here."

Then everything began to add up. Lyra had been mistaken the whole time. The carefully placed words, the hidden agenda. This wasn't the political arena.

This was the prodding of a careful suitor.

Immediately her façade vanished and she stopped walking, staring at him hesitantly. "How long have you been watching me?"

"Since before I came to Hogwarts."

"Did my father tell you to do this?"

"No," he answered, his face open and unguarded. "I did this out of my own vishes."

She began to walk again. He kept in step with her, shortening his strides to hers. "You know I'm already betrothed. Why try?"

He sighed, staring up into the clear, cerulean blue sky. "It does not hurt. It is rare to break a betrothal, but not impossible."

She thought of Flint. Of his horrid posture and unappealing teeth. His coarse, straw-like hair and frowning face. Then she compared it to the boy next to her.

The Bulgarian was handsome, no one could deny that. He had a strong jaw and open eyes. He smiled. Throughout their whole conversation he had never stopped. His skin was tanned and his eyes a beautiful chocolate brown. He was close to six foot, more man than boy based on generous dusting of facial hair on his face. It looked as if he had missed a day or two of shaving.

Flint couldn't hope to match.

"I still do not know your name," she said finally.

"Branimir," he said warmly.

"Well Branimir, there are many purebloods here. Why attempt to woo me when there are prettier, older girls waiting for you."

"None so beautiful as you," he promised. "In the sunlight, your hair is like a halo; golden and feather light. You haff stunning bone structure, and tiny like a pureblood vife should be. Not to mention you haff lovely hands, a little obsession of mine," he said with a wink. "I vouldn't mind waiting for you. You vould be vorth it."

If she was all the above then why was he the first to notice her supposed beauty? Colin didn't count, he had some artistic obsession with her. Flint had been forced to look at her. She was his betrothed after all. Lyra knew she was beautiful, a Malfoy could be nothing else. But she was still human. The only logical answer was he was trying to charm her, which sadly did not work in his favor. She wasn't one to become a damsel over a few pretty words.

"There are still the Carrow sisters. Hestia is betrothed, but Flora is not. Flora is a fifth year too, much closer in age to you." They also happened to be cousins with Amycus and Alecto Carrow, two deviating monsters. But she wasn't going to mention that. "Then there's Parkinson… and Marilyn Ollivander! Last I heard they sent Marilyn to Beauxbaton. Mr. Ollivander married a French witch that all but demanded for their child to go there if rumors are true," she hurried out, catching his displeased expression.

"They are not vhat I had… _hoped_ for."

"Millicent Bulstrode?" Not that she was a pureblood.

"Certainly not!"

"… Hannah Abbott?" She was running out of names. Even if the Abbott's no longer followed the pureblood ways at least they were neutral.

"I don't know hov' much clearer I can make it that I came for you."

She blinked vapidly, taking in his confidant stance. He wasn't one for shyness. Even after five minute she could tell this. "I am a pureblood Branimir. I follow our traditional ways. Even if I wanted to get rid of Flint, I wouldn't. My father has decided this for me and I would not fight him against it."

He immediately became incredulous. "You are saying you do not _vant_ to be rid of him? You vouldn't even try?"

She turned a delicate shade of pink. "No."

"Vhy?"

And then it was expected for Lyra to make into words why she didn't mind her betrothal with Flint as much as she should. She always failed at this task, because in the end people would only stare at her like she was a wild banshee waiting in some dark corner to sneak off with their children to make a light meal of them.

"I think I'll keep it to myself. Makes me more of a mystery, doesn't it?"

He scratched at his shorn hair, disgruntled. "It does. But that does not stop the rest of the boys from trying. Durmstrang has set its eye on you. Many of us vish to take you back to the home country as our prize."

She turned his back to him, leaving with an airy laugh. "They can try."

Sometimes she should really keep her mouth shut.

* * *

I got writer's block really badly for the past two weeks, but I finally finished that chapter. This is why I write ahead haha.


	15. Chapter 15

Happy Thanksgiving everyone! Haha I had today off so I decided to surprise you guys. :)

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Chapter 15

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Ginny had bribed her to come to the first challenge of the Triwizard Tournament, stating that she'd give Lyra some Sour Apple Bites from Honeyduke's if she came. Lyra was never one for turning down any type of sour candy, a vice that she had.

Lately, Lyra had been more interested in hiding up in the Gryffindor tower than anything else. At least there none of her suitors could bother her. Not all of the Durmstrang students were pursuing her, thank Merlin. Krum seemed more interested in 'Hermy-own-niny' than anything. Most of the others were attempting to win the affections of the part-veelas in Beauxbaton. Only a select few chased Lyra, the ones that held closely to the old ways.

It was strange, to suddenly be so wanted. Romilda had worked herself up in a tizzy about it. One of the Durmstrang boys that chased Lyra around happened to be one that Romilda avidly liked, stating that she put her duties as the vice president of the Harry Potter club on hold for this task. Lyra thought Romilda was crazy, but when Lyra spoke to Luna about this the strange girl found Romilda perfectly sane. When Lyra told Romilda that, it seemed to ruffle her feathers. Romilda still adamantly denied that she was, as Romilda put, 'missing any of her marbles' for doing this.

"Do you think Harry will get burned by the dragon?" Romilda fretted.

"Romilda!" Ginny hissed, becoming even more paranoid.

"I know! I know! I can't help it. I'm just so nervous," Romilda rambled. "I mean, this is life or death. At any moment he could be charred to a crisp, and then-"

" _Romilda_ , I say this kindly but please shut up," Mary butted in with a reprimanding look.

"Okay, okay. I will."

Then began Romilda's nibbling. She bit at her lip, then her nails. She tapped her foot nervously, tensing as Potter finally came out of the champion's tent.

"Lyra?"

 _Oh Merlin._

Lyra attempted a smile, turning towards the masculine voice at her side. "Polikoff, how can I help you?" Her eyes glanced down to a stray stain of purple on his collar before darting back up. Best not to question what it was.

"OH, Polikoff. How are you?" Romilda asked, fluttering her lashes. He didn't seem to notice, burning a hole into Lyra with his strong gaze.

"I happen to be vell," he announced, not bothering to look at the poor girl next to Lyra vying for his attentions. "I vish to talk to you Lyrae."

For some reason most of the Durmstrang students could not say her name. At least it was similar to her real one, unlike Hermione's.

"What is it?"

"Somevere private, perhaps?"

A stray gust of fire hit near their seats startling Lyra enough to physically jump in the air. She would have stumbled if Polikoff hadn't had the initiative to catch her before it could happen.

Perhaps it would have been better to fall.

Romilda huffed angrily next to her, folding her arms across her chest and glaring into the arena.

"I- Thank you Polikoff, for catching me."

He placed her carefully on the chair. "Vho am I to not help a damzel in distress," he announced, almost forcing a grimace on Lyra's face.

Romilda made another short noise of agitation.

"Perphaps I could be rewarded," he hinted.

Lyra stared at him dully. "How?"

"A kiss vould do," he said boldly. "Just one."

She heard something about Potter flying away on a broomstick with the Hungarian Horntail trailing after him, but she couldn't bring herself to care at that moment. " _What?_ How-" She became silent, an idea popping into her head. "Fine. But you must close your eyes. No peaking."

He smirked but complied, leaning closer to her. Lyra turned to Romilda who was making gasping, indignant breaths next to her. Lyra raised her brows, pointing with her eyes at Romilda towards Polikoff, begging for her to catch on. It took Romilda a moment, but she did.

Romilda trembled with giddiness, leaning over Lyra awkwardly all elbows and knees to place a loud, resounding kiss on Polikoff's lips before hurrying to her seat and petting her hair in place. Honestly that was all Romilda wanted in the first place. It always seemed like after kissing her next victim, _ahem,_ boyfriend, she lost interest.

"I assume that was satisfactory," Lyra said in a haughty voice.

"My lady, it was perfection." That smirk spread on his lips again, a knowing look in his eyes. Lyra laughed to herself, thoroughly enjoying the fact that she had gotten one over on him. It served him right.

Romilda preened at the compliment. Mary rolled her eyes, already used to Romilda's antics. Ginny was too busy searching for Potter to notice anything remiss of her friends.

"Harry got the golden egg!" Ginny screeched suddenly. It was as if the whole school had forgotten their amenity of Harry Potter and in that moment banded together in pride for their victor. The cheering filled the air, loud and inhibited, and the bleaches rocked by the excited stomping of their feet.

Lyra had missed the whole thing dealing with this goon. She huffed. She was hoping to see _some_ action. All of the other victors had been dreadfully boring.

* * *

The one good thing about having a Gryffindor win the first challenge was the party that had ensued. The Weasley twins had somehow gotten their hands on firewhiskey and spiked many of the little fruits and juice on the tables. Unfortunately, Lyra had only learned of this after becoming a bit tipsy.

"Mary, if I look like I'm about to do something utterly stupid please lock me in the dorm," she announced. If there was one thing Lyra hated in the world it was making a fool of herself. She wouldn't be able to bear the embarrassment. She had already noticed she was prone to giggling like some frivolous, absent-minded witch. Even realizing this she couldn't help it.

"Lyra! Gryffindor won!" Colin shouted, racing over to her and taking a big gulp of the firewhiskey-laced punch.

"You do know the drinks have all been spiked Creevey, right?" Mary said dryly.

Colin grinned. "They are? Well I better get some more."

He snapped a picture of Mary quickly much to her annoyance, and then did the same to Lyra. "Dance with me?" he said grandly, holding a hand out to Lyra.

"Don't be silly," she mumbled, fighting the flush growing on her cheeks.

"It will be fun! I promise not to step on your toes." He waited expectantly, holding his hand out for Lyra to take.

"Oh just do it Lyra. We all know that Colin won't leave you alone until you do. He'll just hover all night annoying us all," Mary announced from behind her.

"I shouldn't." But she was already placing her hand in his. He didn't let her question anymore, pulling her out in the middle of the room where a throb of half wasted Gryffindors were dancing to the imperceptible music coming from some odd corner of the room. They were dancing, but not any type of dance Lyra had learned.

All of Lyra's dancing had been refined, graceful; taught by an instructor that had numerous years under their belt and could only be the best considering her parents had hired them. But this dancing was quite different, foreign to Lyra.

"I don't know what to do," she finally admitted, as much as it hurt her pride. Colin stopped twirling.

"What do you mean? It's easy. Just do what your body tells you to." He took her hands in his and twisted her around, a small smile growing on his face as he did. She laughed, twisting him around as well. She had never expected for this to be fun.

There wasn't any particular beat they followed, the music was drowned out too much by the noise to properly hear it. They moved and jumped and twisted and were invisible just like everyone else surrounding them. She grinned at Colin, flushed as she took him in. When he smiled it started from the eyes and worked its way down. She couldn't help but notice how much his smile suited him.

She stopped moving, taking deep breaths in as she tried to gather herself. Their hands that had been together between them since the beginning dropped, and Lyra looked away. She felt weird, and wasn't very keen on whatever feeling was making its way through her. The snap of a camera pulled her out of her thoughts.

"You can't help taking a picture, can you?"

He stared at her for a moment, shaking his head in agreement. His hair followed the movement, going opposite ways and staying disheveled after. "Of course not."

"I was hoping the Beauxbaton girls would keep your attention this year," she announced a bit testily, folding her arms across her chest.

He frowned. "Don't be silly. They're pretty, yeah; but they're not you."

Lyra was left to ponder his statement the rest of the night.

* * *

Thank you Allie for reviewing! This chapter is for you!


	16. Chapter 16

This chapter is dedicated to TaylorLautner-HPfanatic, who I'm pretty sure has reviewed just about every story I've ever posted! Thank you so much for the continued support!

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Chapter 16

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After learning anyone below third year could only go to the Yule Ball with an invitation from an older student, Romilda Vane had been on the prowl. Lyra was unsure if she herself even wanted to go. Lyra attended a ball every year, so this was not a big deal to her. However, it would be nice to go to one where her friends were actually there.

"I can't just go up to talk to him!" Romilda exclaimed, nibbling on her thumb nail anxiously.

"Yes you can. You're Romilda Vane, and you're not afraid of anything," Lyra said, giving her a push towards the older, handsome Gryffindor. Lyra had been scheming to get all her friends a date to the ball so that they all could go together. Ginny had gotten one all by herself, Neville Longbottom. Mary was going to be harder. Romilda only needed a push in the right direction.

As for herself, she had agreed to go with Polikoff. She would have preferred Branimir, but unfortunately he had received her message loud and clear about being betrothed. At least he had been decent; the others were a pack of wolves. Lyra only agreed to go with Polikoff to make herself look less of a strumpet. Polikoff had been sure to make the rumor spread around of her kissing him, and every time she passed a Durmstrang student they seemed to smirk at her.

Romilda nodded, setting a resolute expression on her face as she marched over to Cormac McLaggen. They talked for a bit, Romila becoming shyer as time went on. Finally he nodded and Romilda immediately jumped into his arms to give him a hug before racing back over.

"He said yes!" she burst.

"Of course he said yes," Mary said with an eye roll, turning the page to her Care of Magical Creatures book. "No one can say no to you. You never give up."

Romilda mimicked Mary talking before turning to Lyra. "Now we're all going! Except Mary, of course."

"I don't want to go. It's useless," Mary interrupted, closing her book. "I don't care about dressing up and dancing, and I don't fancy anyone either."

Romilda looked at Mary like some type of foreign, backwards creature. "You're so weird."

"What about Lyra? She's the same way!"

"Lyra's betrothed. She's accepted that and doesn't seem to mind it. You, on the other hand, have no romantic prospectives at all. It's not acceptable," Romilda said.

"What do you mean it's not acceptable?! I'm happy with it. I have to live with it, not you," Mary gritted out.

"Romilda, you still need to choose your dress," Lyra interrupted nervously. The last thing she wanted was an all out brawl between her friends, especially somewhere as public as the Gryffindor common room.

"Oh, you're right! What am I going to wear?" Romilda asked panicking, becoming easily side tracked. "What am I going to do?"

Lyra wrapped an arm around Romilda, steering them towards the dorm. "We have Hogsmeade this weekend. We can choose a dress for you at Gladrags."

"We can, can't we?" Romilda beamed. "But wait! What about that letter from Flint? He said he wanted to meet up with you at Hogsmeade this weekend."

"He surely wouldn't mind me hanging out with my best friend for some of it."

But Romilda didn't look very convinced. "I don't think Flint likes me very much," she said quietly.

"Why would you say that?" Marcus Flint had never hinted at anything like that to Lyra. He had never even mentioned her friends before, come to think of it.

"You may not hold to certain, um, traditions; but Flint does. He seems to hate anyone that's not a pureblood or Slytherin," Romilda said, tugging at the bottom of her grey sweater anxiously.

Lyra nodded meekly, feeling foolish for not realizing that sooner. She thought perhaps he didn't care about her friends, except Mary of course.

* * *

It was a trying day at Gladrags Wizardwear for Lyra. There had been many dresses that Lyra found flattering on Romilda, but Romilda was convinced on some fairy tale notion that did not exist. Romilda had been reading too much Witch Weekly in Lyra's opinion. There was no such thing as a jaw dropping dress that made boys tremble at your feet. Maybe if all your bits were hanging out of the dress, then yes. Other than that, Lyra thought it was impossible.

"I can't find it! None of them look good on me!" Romilda burst, limping towards her with a silver heel on.

"Romilda," Lyra said impatiently. "What you're looking for isn't known to man."

"Of course it is!" Romilda said incredulously. "I should have brought Ginny! She would have believed in me!"

But Ginny was too busy snogging Michael Corner in Madame Puddifoot's to care anything about this.

"Ginny got a dress that looks something like a five year old would wear. I imagine she would be very grated at this moment too." Ginny had counted her blessings with that dress too, because her brother Ronald's clothes had been even worse than Ginny's. Lyra wasn't sure how he could even bear the indignity of putting it on, let alone going out in public with it.

"So now you're annoyed with me?! Lyra!"

"I'm sorry, okay. What do you want me to do?" She glanced down at her watch. She still had about another half hour before she had to meet Marcus.

"I want you to help me find a dress!" she cried, sniffling with watery eyes.

"Here, try this," Lyra said, handing her the first thing that touched her hands.

Romilda scowled at the piece of garment. "It's ugly."

"That's because you don't see its potential. What do you not like about it?"

Romilda gestured to the folds on the shoulders, then the length of the dress. Immediately Lyra said the charms to fix them, making Romilda's eyes go wide.

"How did you do that?"

Lyra smiled. "I may not get the best grades in school, but I know beauty charms front to back. If you have an issue in that department I can fix it easily enough."

"Lyra," Romilda said plaintive. "You've been holding out on me. I could have been using you this whole time whenever I had a bad hair day."

"You never said anything about needing help."

"It doesn't mean I didn't need it! Lyra, you're going to fix me up like some fairy princess for Yule Ball," Romilda declared, staring dreamily at the wall.

"I'll try Romilda, I really will. I have to go though. Flint is probably waiting for me."

She hurried out the shop, eyeing the odd arrangement of socks on display as she went. Romilda and Lyra were going to have to agree to disagree with that point. Lyra only had five minutes to get to the Three Broomsticks, the place where she and Flint had agreed to meet. He had already gotten them a table when she arrived. Flint had even gone so far as to order both of them butterbeer. He drank slowly, surreptitiously glancing around at his surroundings quietly.

"Sorry I'm late," she said out of breath, pulling her red and gold scarf off her neck and sitting down. "Thanks for the drink."

His eyes rested on her, scrutinizing her from top to bottom with a soft smile on his lips. "You have grown even more from the last time I saw you." Lyra self-consciously brought her coat tighter around her, hiding her budding breast. That had been her biggest change, if one were honest. He certainly wasn't talking about the scant inch or two she had gained. "How have you been this year?"

Lyra took a swig of butterbeer, avoiding his question for as long as she could. She stared into her drink, watching it fizzle in its delightful caramel color. "I have been fine. Everything is great."

Flint went back to watching his surroundings. "My dad has started teaching me the business. He said it was time I started learning."

The Flint family had owned a large betting shop for three generations. It was located somewhere in Knockturn Ally. Usually it dealt with wizarding sports, but just about any type of bet could be brought there to make official. For a small price, of course.

"That's great Flint," she said with a smile.

His eyes met hers, warm and inviting. "Call me Marcus. We're betrothed, not strangers."

She stared at the table, unsure of what to say. He already called her Lyra so there was no sense in saying anything about that. "Of course," she agreed.

He pulled at his sleeves, loosening the tie around his neck. "I got off early to visit you. My father understood. You've had an interesting year, with the Triwizard Tournament being held at Hogwarts for the first time in decades."

"It was agreeable," she said hesitantly. "I went to the first task. It wasn't as amusing as I had hoped."

"Ah, I heard many rumors about that. One of them being that a Durmstrang boy kissed you. That wouldn't happen to be true, would it?"

She brought her head up immediately, his eyes watching her steadily. "Of course not! Fli-Marcus, I just made him believe that. The Durmstrang boys don't take no for an answer. So I had him close his eyes and Romilda kissed him for me. She liked him anyway."

He snorted. "Interesting way to use your friends." She wanted to argue that she wasn't using them, but she didn't think that would help her case much at this moment. "A good use for a blood traitor family, I think. Did you know her mother was a pureblood? She threw it all away for some muggle she met in a bar."

Lyra clenched her fist beneath the table, taking another sip of her drink to avoid looking at him.

"Many people think I'm stupid, but I'm not as stupid as everyone thinks. Do you know that?" he asked, still watching her.

She carefully placed her butterbeer on the table. "Of course."

"I failed on purpose, you know."

That statement startled her enough to make eye contact with him. She couldn't understand what his eyes were saying to her. There was something in them, she just didn't understand what. "Why would you do that?"

He sighed, finally turning away from her. He leaned until his back was against the chair and he looked anywhere but at her. "I've known I was going to marry you since I was thirteen. My father sat me down that Christmas break and explained it to me. He said he had reached an arbitrary agreement with Lucius Malfoy, and that this match would bring me many great things. It would strengthen the waning ties to the Malfoys, and if in a spot of trouble I could always expect their help. Then we went to the ball and he pointed you out to me. You were a tiny little thing, all of seven. Even then you were a perfect pureblood. You were cold, uncaring, calculated. You were more obvious about assessing people then, I remember," he said as an afterthought. "Because you couldn't help the look on your face once meeting Dirk Cressell, that mudblood wizard that's now head of Goblin Liaison Office. Fudge had brought Cressell with him," he added.

"Even then I could tell you'd be beautiful. You had on a light green dress with sequins in your long, blonde hair that made it look as if it glimmered. You only smiled when there was a point to it; when there was something to gain from the interaction. You looked to your father often, watching his moves and attempting to mimic him in your own way. I knew that you would be perfect from that one glance. Someone that could do much better than me."

He took a deep breath in, twisting the galleon in his hand. "I knew by then I wasn't very attractive. All of my attempted advances with girls had not only been spurned, but met with disgust. Like I wasn't worth the dirt under their fingernails."

Lyra couldn't help but interrupt. "I don't think that F-Marcus. I wouldn't treat you that way."

His eyes pinned her down. "Is that because your father told you not to?"

"No," she said honestly. "I mean, if I were honest I'd say I know you're not the best looking guy, but I don't really mind it."

"So you wouldn't change anything about me?"

Lyra twitched, giving up and running a hand through her hair. "Maybe just your teeth?" she said finally.

He nodded, a thoughtful look on his face. "I can deal with that." He gave her a small smile which she returned easily. "I've watched you since first year, looked after you really. Whenever I heard any rumor of someone liking you I dispelled it. I made it clear that no one was to go after you. But now that I'm gone… it seems the male population at Hogwarts has been busy."

"I think people learning that we're betrothed stopped that. Only the Durmstrang boys chase after me. They don't seem to catch onto the fact I'm promised to another no matter how many times I spurn them."

Marcus Flint clenched his jaw, balling his meaty hand into a tight fist. "I'll be sure to resolve that soon."

Lyra nodded meekly. "Thank you." After a moment she made a startled noise. "Wait! Perhaps that can wait until after the Yule Ball? I kind of need a date to get in, and I've got Polikoff taking me."

"Polikoff?"

"Yes," she asserted. "He's going to take me. I plan on disappearing soon after I get through the doors."

He gave a jerky nod. "You know, I had my doubts when I first heard the sorting hat call out Gryffindor. I couldn't understand how someone so _Slytherin_ got sorted into Gryffindor. But afterward you became more open, and I liked that. The note from my father explaining the situation was helpful too." They sat in silence. "I suppose I failed seventh year on purpose," he announced, finally getting to her earlier question. "So that I could watch you longer. You have been my life for so many years. I guess I didn't want you to disappear yet." Vulnerability shined in his eyes. She realized at that moment any misplaced word could ruin any affection he had for her.

"When my father told me of you I was eleven. I didn't mind so much. You were of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, and held the same ideals we did. You had never been cruel to me either, never glared at me in passing. More than anything I care about that. I didn't want a husband that hated me, or treated me like dirt or used me to completion. I wanted- I wanted more than that."

"You think you can have that with me?" His face remained unreadable.

She gave a light nod, barely perceptible. "I think so." She made a light noise of indecision in her throat. "Marcus what do you feel for me? I've been trying to figure it out all these years but…" she trailed off, rubbing her forehead with a grimace.

"If you're asking if I love, I don't think I do. Not yet at least. I do care for you."

She looked up. "I care for you too."

And that was all she ever really needed.

* * *

Guest Comments:

Allie- Because you're amazing and I want to thank you for all the support you've been showing me with this story. Thank you so much!


	17. Chapter 17

Surprise early chapter! Thanks for all those reviews for chapter 16!

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Chapter 17

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"Help me get my dress on!"

"I'm trying! If you'd stop squirming this would work out much better!"

"You're the beauty guru! This is your territory! Not mine."

"Oh, shut it. Both of you!" Mary burst from her corner. "You're both driving me mad."

Romilda began grumbling under her breath. Lyra only rolled her eyes, tugging Romilda's strap into place. Romilda brushed the wrinkles out with timid hands, staring at herself in the mirror.

"You can borrow my earrings. I asked mother to send them to me," Lyra said, handing her the rounded, amethyst earrings she had gotten two years earlier for her birthday. Lyra had her mother send her a dress for this evening. She had ended up with grey dress robes made of silk with crystal accents placed strategically about the dress. It went a little past her knees, with a sweet heart neckline. Lyra was happy with her dress. It was stunning, but her mother's taste would not allow for anything less than that.

"Come here Ginny. At least let me turn your bodice the same green as the bottom of the dress," Lyra murmured, finally growing tired with the eye sore. Ginny's eyes showed relief.

"Thank you," Ginny said, turning about in the mirror to look at the change. "It looks better now."

Lyra slipped on her dependable grey heels, whispering a spell to fix her hair in a chignon with a few curls framing her face. For makeup she did another spell, happy with her results when darkened eyes, lips, and a light blush appeared. Romilda watched her with interest, waiting expectantly with closed eyes as Lyra finished. She decided to do a high bun for Romilda, making a swirl with her bangs that led to her bun.

"Can you do my hair for me too? I was going to just leave it half up, half down, but…" Ginny trailed off hopefully.

"We can keep it like that, except," she stopped, placing Ginny's ponytail to the side and leaving it messy, whispering a spell to make a braid appear. She decided to experiment with a new charm her mother had taught her that summer. Ginny's hair shifted until it was obvious her hair was making a delicate flower made of her own hair to hold half her hair up.

Ginny grinned, thanking her friend with her eyes before fluttering over to her bed to get her shoes, a pair of even more sensible flats.

"We're off Mary. We'll try not to make too much noise when we come back," Lyra announced. The girl merely nodded, flipping another page of her text.

Lyra had given up on getting Mary a date. It was evident Mary was vehemently against it, and truly had no interest in going. It only proved to annoy the girl further when her friends continued to nag her to go.

"You three have fun, and don't stay out too late!"

"Yes mum," Romilda said dramatically, tilting her head back with a curve of a smile. Ginny followed her, shaking her head in amusement as she went.

"Polikoff, you look… great."

He looked as if he were wearing some type of uniform, but then all the Durmstrang students were similarly dressed. They wore a deep red with some type of fur attached somewhere, with either a black belt or buttons completing the look. A few had a dark blue, almost black pant leg, but most everyone was wearing either black or a dusky brown color.

Polikoff himself has buttons on his jacket, with midnight black pants. His fur was a light grey, something a little different from the rest of his school. He swept down into an elegant bow when he saw her, lingering as he kissed her hand.

"Lyra, my love. You look stunning."

A defiant response was on the tip of her tongue, something that was sure to mention that she was not his love or anything else to him. "I thank you," she said graciously, dipping down into a curtsy.

She turned to look at her friends, but they had already abandoned her for their dance partners. Romilda and Cormac McLaggen had met in the common room, as had Ginny and Neville Longbottom.

Polikoff offered his arm which she took with a small smile. She felt bare next to him, his eyes burning holes across her physique. She could feel him as he stared, taking in every curve she offered. Lyra personally didn't think she had the best shape in the world. She was too skinny to have much curve to her body. But with her breast filling out some it made her form look a bit better. Lyra would have to talk to her mother about form fitting dresses. They could only ever amount to something not so savory. She already had her husband chosen, there was no point in displaying her like prized meat. Perhaps when she was married and there was not much of a chance of people approaching her with such sordid intentions she may partake in such dresses, but for now she wanted to stick to a very conservative look. Besides, she wasn't very comfortable with her breast yet, and the neck line was a little too low for her liking.

His arm wrapped around her waist, his hand dropping down to graze her side every now and then. She brought her ice blue eyes upon him.

"Now, now. We must be proper. I have a betrothed."

He stared down at her, a smirk leisurely making its way across his face. "My dear, vot he doesn't know vill not hurt."

She fought a grimace. "Even so," she said, placing some distance between them so that their hips no longer touched. "It is still improper."

He squinted at her. "Vot has changed. You had not issues vith this before. Are you being… vot is the vord? Coquettish?"

Her eyes widened. She blinked a few times searching for an answer, but was saved when the champions of the Triwizard Tournament made their entrance. All of them looked beautiful. Of course, Potter looked awkward as always. He stared longingly at Cho Chang. Lyra had never noticed his apparent affection for the pretty Ravenclaw before. He could at least try to hide it out of his respect for his date. But then we were talking about Potter, who was as subtle as a basilisk attempting to blend in with a group of field mice.

"I'm going to get some punch," she murmured, darting under Polikoff's arm and losing herself in the crowd. She hoped to find Ginny before the Weird Sisters got there. They were one of Ginny's favorite bands and Lyra had never seen a concert before. At least, not this type of concert. She had seen orchestras and operas, things like that, but never anything as wild and rebellious as a rock band.

She squinted into one of the corners of the room, doubting her vision. There was that head of familiar brown hair, slicked back and out of his face for once. The thin frame and hands clenching and unclenching nervously, his eyes darting about the room. She was more than sure it was Colin Creevey. He had somehow sneaked into the ballroom while everyone was distracted with the champions.

"Colin! How-" she started, jumping at the hand suddenly placed on her shoulder. "I- hi?"

"You ran off so fast I was vorried," Polikoff said with a hint of suspicion in his voice.

Lyra took a step forward, taking two drinks from the table in front of her and handing one of them to him. "See?" She made eye contact with Colin, her eyes pleading and his confused, before being pulled away by her so-called date.

"Do you like to dance?"

"Of course, I'm a Malfoy," she said haughtily. After she said it she realized she could have at least tried to fib. That statement was sure to have consequences.

"Then I must ask you to dance." He kissed her hand once more, taking her to the dance floor and wrapping his arms around her waist. She hesitated before slowly reaching around his neck, meeting his eyes before turning to look at the scenery. She didn't want to know what he was thinking. It was sure to be nothing good. "Dancing suits you."

She gave a prim nod, hyper aware of the hands attempting to discretely slide lower on her waist. She gave him a warning look.

"I am betrothed." She wasn't sure how much more she could stress this.

"And like I said, vot he doesn't kno' von't hurt him."

She finally found Ginny, dancing a bit awkwardly with her date Neville. Ginny had to be having a better time than she was, even with Neville stepping on her toes every five seconds. If Lyra's intuition was correct, Romilda was probably snogging McLaggen in some dark, dank corner. Her friend wasn't very particular about her snog spots, just anywhere out of sight would do. Lyra wasn't entirely sure how Romilda had never gotten caught by a teacher.

"So tell me about yourself."

Lyra blinked roughly, staring up at Polikoff. What was he up to? "What do you mean?"

He smiled serenely, tightening his hold on her waist almost making her jump. "Anything. I'd like to kno' more about the legendary Snake of Gryffindor."

Lyra's eyes narrowed. "Do people really call me that?"

"They might begin to no' vat I haff."

Lyra never realized how much she liked Flint until the alternatives had been thrown in her face. "What do you want Polikoff?"

He smirked as he eyed her, not even attempting to hide the fact he was looking down her dress. She felt herself begin to flush, but had too much pride to show him how much it unsettled her. It's not like there was a lot going on in that department to begin with.

"I think you kno'."

She pulled away sharply. "Well that's not available. Go find some other desperate girl."

He pulled her back into her arms, roping himself around her making it apparent that she couldn't get away without making a scene. She had never realized how strong he was before, or how his arms were thickly roped with muscle.

"Let me go," she hissed.

He pet her hair, a self-appreciative grin on his face. "Just a little kiss. It von't hurt anything. Vot is one more?"

She squirmed against him, glancing around to see if anyone had caught on. The last thing she needed was a professor seeing them and then getting a letter sent to her father of the incident. Flint was already angry enough about the boys that had begun to plague her. She didn't want to hear anything more from him about it.

"I'm warning you," she gritted out, glaring at his chest which was eye level on her.

"Or vot, my love? You do not haff your vand," he pointed out.

The joke was on him, because she didn't need it.

She brought her knee up, not hitting him too hard but hard enough to let her go and to scare him. He made an 'oof' sound, backing away immediately. Without a second thought, Lyra ran to the farthest corner of the room, making sure he did not track her as she did. She slipped off her heels, too worried about Polikoff to care about looks and protocol. Come to think of it, Lyra didn't even know Polikoff's first name. She couldn't help the snort of amusement that came out, and if ever asked if she did it she would vehemently deny the sound. Ladies did not snort, let alone Malfoys.

"Something funny?"

Lyra jumped, slapping Colin lightly on the arm with a scowl. "You scared me!" she whispered.

Colin grinned. "I could tell. Say, what are you hiding from?" He stood on tippy-toes, searching for the boy that was steadily becoming the bane of her existence.

"Polikoff," she muttered stonily, her jaw tightening. She let out a sigh, her shoulders slumping with the motion. "Oh how I hate his slimy little guts. And let me assure you, they _are_ slimy."

Colin let out a choked sort of laughter, evidently surprised. "I didn't know you had it in you to openly hate someone. I thought it too delicate of your morals."

"I am a very delicate woman," Lyra announced with a straight face.

Colin's lips trembled as he fought to keep the laughter in. "Of course, your majesty. Is there anything I can service you with?" he asked in a very proper, posh accent.

"Are you mocking me?"

Colin's eyes glinted. "I would never."

Lyra's nose scrunched before deciding another shove would do him good. It only served to make him laugh.

"Would you like to dance? This time it's your type of dancing. You can teach me a few things."

Her calm demeanor vanished and she stared into the crowd paranoid, searching for a familiar brown haired, foreign male. "I can't. I shouldn't."

"Oh, come on! It will be fun! We can even stick to the corners! I'm not supposed to be here anyways," he murmured, the last part a bit sullenly.

"What if- oh!"

It was too late. Colin had pulled her roughly out onto the dance floor and loosely placed his hands on her waist. More near her ribs than anything, unlike a certain _boy_ who didn't know that no really does mean no. They rocked back and forth, slowly twirling in a circle.

"I have to admit this isn't as bad as before," she said in an even tone.

"Of course! Anything is better than your date," Colin readily agreed.

"I don't know what I was thinking."

"You were thinking you wanted to go to the dance." Lyra shook her head in amusement, the fly-aways framing her face following the motion. "You look pretty by the way," he added. "Who knew that grey could be such a nice color. I always thought it a drab one."

She eyed him, searching for the item that seemed to be a part of him. "Where is your camera?"

Colin immediately became sullen, a pout on his face. "It was too obvious. McGonagall would have spotted me before I even got through the door." He took another look at her. "I wish I had it."

"You don't need it."

"Of course I do. Lyra, I don't think you know this but it's a vital part of my being. It's like, I don't know, I'm not Colin Creevey without it."

Lyra giggled. "Let's go get it then."

"Really? You mean, you don't care anymore?" he asked excitedly.

The truth was that Colin taking pictures of her hadn't bothered Lyra in a long time, if it ever had. "No."

"Then follow me!" He dragged her through the crowd, almost knocking a bowl of punch over in the process. "Sorry!" he shouted behind him to the grumbling crowd. He stopped at a random door in the hall, turning towards her. "Wait in here. I'll be back."

She watched him go, cocking her head at the door in curiosity. When she heard two voices carrying from further down the hallway she raced in without hesitation, placing her ear against the door as the two students passed.

"This way, no one's over here," a girl giggled.

A masculine voice murmured something back, his tone too low to discern. But whatever he said pushed her into girlish, high-pitched giggles.

She sighed, pivoting on her heels as she took in the room. It looked like any other old room in Hogwarts. One of the chairs had been knocked over, and there was even a cob web in a far corner. She stepped closer to the window, leaning on the window pane to stare out at the moon. It was almost full tonight, and the stars were nondescript, dully flashing lights compared to it.

The snap of a camera pulled her out of her reverie. She shook her head as she turned around, a small smile on her face. He took another one of her, his eyes ghosting over her form. But unlike Polikoff, Colin's gaze wasn't raking and degrading. It was thoughtful, and had a sort of clinical feeling to it.

"Can I see?"

He gestured for her to come over to him. The picture looked normal, nothing amazing or 'aesthetically pleasing' as Colin liked to put it. She always wished she could see herself through his eyes, just for a moment, to see exactly what he saw when he looked at her.

"Do you like it?"

"I-yeah," she said, scratching her head and not meeting his gaze. He snorted out loud, rolling his eyes.

"Come here."

She took another step closer following his gaze as he snapped a picture of her hand. "You're so weird," she laughed.

"What? You're hands are nice. They're really elegant."

"They're just hands Colin."

"No, they're not. They are thin and long; soft and, and," he sighed, dropping his camera. It swung back and forth from the chord on his neck and he rubbed at one of his eyes. "I'm not sure how to describe it."

"Yeah, yeah. I get it. I make a nice subject," she laughed.

He grinned, slow and boyish. It warmed his eyes and made his gaze softer. A fuzzy feeling flitted in her belly. She realized then what a great smile he had; it lit his entire face up. She gently took the camera from Colin's hand, snapping a picture of his smile before he could realize what she was doing.

"Hey! What was that for?"

Lyra took the picture before he could grab the camera, flitting across the room with a teasing grin. "This one is for me."

* * *

Guest Comments:

Allie- I try to make my characters as complicated as people should be. Not everyone is one simple thing, and sometimes what a person does and says doesn't add up. I try to make my characters like that, more lifelike. Honestly my updates depends on how much feedback I get. If I get a lot of reviews I post quicker, and less vice versa. I always want to know how well or horrible I do something, and when I get feedback it makes me happy and I post. I'm currently writing chapter 47 and have had my beta go over and edit (with me re-editing after her) up to chapter 35. I could post up to chapter 35 if I _really_ wanted to, but like I said I love my feedback. That, and I like there to be a big space between where I'm writing and what I posted in case I get writer's block. I've had it for every single chapter after 40 considering it gets really complicated after that. I've been working on seven chapter for a month and a half, yet I wrote 20+ chapters in one month!

Guest #1- You sound like my beta haha. You'll have to wait and see what happens. ;)

Guest #2- I can tell haha boom!


	18. Chapter 18

Another early chapter for all the amazing support I've been receiving! Thank you all so much! :D

* * *

Chapter 18

* * *

Lyra was almost certain she had never seen her brother look so gleeful. He was guffawing obnoxiously at the Slytherin table, making it obvious exactly what he was laughing at when he pointed at the newspaper and then to Potter and his friends.

"Ugh, Lyra. Why can't you stop your brother from being a git. At least once. Please," Ginny begged, stabbing at her trekle tart. "And he got Hagrid fired! I mean, he wasn't all that great, but still."

Technically, it was her father that did it. But Lyra didn't want to argue semantics so early in the morning.

"I didn't know Hagrid's mum was a giantess," Romilda said suddenly, squinting at the paper. "Named… Fridwulfa? Is that a normal giant name?"

"How should we know? We're not giants," Mary muttered, blowing a stray strand of hair out of her face. Lyra's eyes trained on Potter as he stormed over to the Slytherin table.

"What d'you mean, 'we all hate Hagrid'?" Harry Potter spat at her brother. "What's this rubbish about him" — he pointed at Crabbe — "getting a bad bite off a flobberworm? They haven't even got teeth!"

Lyra snorted, hiding her laughter behind a hand. Thankfully, it did not end in a fist fight or duel this morning. Potter and his friends ended up marching out of the grand hall, sending nasty glares as they went. As for her brother, he was too busy making a spectacle of himself to care much about anything.

* * *

The Second Task was due to be held in a few days; it was all the school seemed to talk about. The contestants had remained tight lipped about it, but then if they had blabbered about the task to everyone then all the contestants would know the secret of the golden eggs and there would be no advantage.

"Lyra!" a voice called from behind her. She turned around to see the welcomed face of Luna Lovegood. "Have you checked on the Shrivelfig lately?"

Professor Sprout had them growing the resilient plant in Herbology. Luna and Lyra had decided to team up for the challenge. At least with Luna she hadn't permanently scarred herself or gotten a bad grade.

"I checked on it yesterday."

They fell in step with one another, Luna's odd, orange radish earrings swinging with every movement of her feet. "It's strange. Normally people mess with my things in Herbology, but they haven't since partnering with you," she said lightly, a quizzical expression on her face.

Lyra wasn't surprised. It had been circulating through the school about how she apparently wasn't afraid of anything. Curse a teacher and stand up for yourself when the odds are against you and suddenly people think bravery is magical.

To be fair she probably _would_ attack someone for defiling her plant. For once she hadn't completely botched it, and Luna was a good teacher when she wasn't off her rockers.

"Perhaps they've become bored?"

Luna cocked her head to the side. "I don't think so. Just this morning my purple socks went missing."

"I'll tell you if I see them Luna," she promised, waving to Luna as they went to their separate tables.

Lyra sat down next to Romilda, who currently had been torn between liking Potter and her date to the Yule Ball.

"Oh, I don't know," Romilda said noncommittally. "They're both so wonderful! I won't. I won't choose between them."

"Romilda," Ginny deadpanned. "Harry doesn't even like you. He doesn't ever seem to like anyone, except Cho perhaps." She stared sullenly at the table, before perking up. "Just pick Cormac. He's quite attractive, and he likes you already."

"But I've invested so much in Potter already!" Romilda burst, bringing looks of confusion from the people near us. Romilda remained unperturbed by their growing audience. "Ginny, I'm going to marry him one day. I just have to get his attention. You'll see."

"Delusional," Mary muttered between her lips with a smile. But it seemed Romilda hadn't heard her, or didn't care enough to answer.

"Whatever," Ginny muttered, rolling her eyes and leaving the table.

"You'll all see one day," Romilda said without any reservations. "We're meant to be together."

"Even with Potter in his fallen graces?" Mary remarked.

Romilda waved her off. "Oh, he's always fluctuating in fame. I've gotten over it."

Lyra's eyes suddenly met Colin's and she felt herself flush, biting her lip as she looked away. She still hadn't forgotten Colin's warm eyes, or his carefree laugh. The constant click of his camera.

"What's on your mind Lyra?" Mary asked with knowing eyes. "You've got a dreamy look on your face. I'd have to admit it's the first time I've ever seen it on you. It couldn't have been Polikoff, could it?"

"No! Never!" Lyra said disgusted. Polikoff had been the bane of her existence since the Yule Ball. He was always trying to track her down, and Lyra always attempted to dart off before he could get too close. The Bulgarian just couldn't catch a hint.

"I thought as much," Mary nodded. "So who is it?"

Romilda suddenly looked intrigued.

"I-no one!" Lyra sputtered, downing her pumpkin juice.

"I'd have to say this is the first time I've ever heard you stutter," Mary commented.

"I do _not_ stutter."

Her delicate sensibilities and upbringing would not allow her to do such an undignified thing.

Well maybe that was a bunch of poppycock, but she couldn't have stuttered. A Malfoy would never do that. But a glance at her brother could always prove her wrong. He seemed to be the embodiment of almost everything a Malfoy _should not_ be.

"Sure you don't," Mary snorted, shaking her head.

"I don't!" Lyra argued. "I haven't done that since, since… I was a young child!"

Romilda's head darted back and forth between them, avidly watching the two with keen interest.

Mary burst into laughter, snorting in a very unladylike manor. Lyra glowered, half tempted to have a childish rage and push her cup over so that it would spill into Mary's lap.

"Hmm, maybe it's Krum!" Mary suggested.

Lyra gave her a disgusted look. "Why would I like him?"

Mary shrugged. "I don't know, the reason everyone else does? Because he's a famous seeker."

"Trust me, I do not like Krum in any way. I'm indifferent to him, really."

"Then maybe it's Diggory?"

Lyra stood up, gathering her bag to leave the room. Mary followed her, a struggling Romilda catching up behind them, breathing hard.

"No!"

"Just checking! Sheesh, he's the cutest guy in school. I had to try."

"Since when have I ever been attracted to looks," Lyra said indignantly.

Mary appeared thoughtful. "Good point. Your betrothed is Flint and you don't seem to have any trouble with his appearance at all."

"What is that supposed to-"

"It's Creevey then, right? Not the little one, the one in our grade. He's the only other boy you really hang around."

Lyra felt her skin pale, the burn beginning to spread as it crept across her cheeks and down her neck. "Why would I like him?! You're crazy Mary!"

Mary's grin was practically feral. "I knew it! You know, forever I thought you were asexual or something like that!"

"What about you?" Lyra spat out angrily.

"Oh, I find boys nice to look at, but it's too much work to train them the way I want them to be. I'll wait till I'm like thirty and some other girl has him fixed up all nice and good before getting my own. Now back to you and your dilemma." Mary cocked a furtive brow at her.

"I don't like Colin Creevey! That's preposterous! Besides, I'm _betrothed_. It would be pointless."

"Wait!" Romilda burst, finally catching on to what was going on. "Lyra likes _Colin_? But he's not even cute! Or a pureblood, or part of the Sacred Twenty-eight thingy she's always going on about, or… much of anything really."

"Shut up Romilda! You don't know what you're talking about," Lyra screeched in a shrill voice. "Colin is a very sweet boy and-" She suddenly went still, realizing that she was only confirming her feelings to her best friends.

"Ah! You're one of those rare personality lovers, are you? No wonder none of us could peg down your type. We used to argue about it for hours, you know? When you were asleep."

"No I don't." Lyra said, irritation slithering its way onto her face. "And not a word of this to anybody. The last thing I need is for this to get out."

Flint was already becoming paranoid about her and Polikoff. Plus, how could she explain away the fact that she liked a muggle born? At least Polikoff was a pureblood and had similar beliefs. Colin was practically the opposite of everything her family believed in. Flint wasn't afraid to hurt someone either. She couldn't chance Flint flying into a rage and beating Colin into a pulp. Colin would never stand a chance against him. Colin didn't stand a chance in a fight against anyone really.

She would have to ignore this. It was only a little crush. People got them all the time. As long as she could keep this down no one would be the wiser. Besides, who is to say he even liked her back?

* * *

The stadium was packed full for the second task. Lyra had no clue how a golden egg related to the lake, but then again she wasn't the best scholar. Not that she was horrible at school, she just wasn't the best. That fact still grated on her, but she had already accepted this. She thought her brother might be able to do the Malfoy name proud in that respective, but he was too busy stirring up trouble and making fun of muggleborns and blood traitors to study much.

Leave it to Potter to show up late to the task. She wasn't very surprised by it, she was more shocked that his fluffy haired, know-it-all friend hadn't gotten him down there sooner.

Ludo Bagman, a washed out professional beater who had a bit of a gambling problem, had been chosen as the announcer. Lyra was almost certain he currently held some job at the ministry, but she wasn't sure what. Draco was sure to know, but ever since Hogwarts he had been awfully direct about avoiding her for the most part because of her Gryffindor ties.

Bagman seems to stray longer when passing Potter, squeezing his shoulder and saying a few words to him, before beginning the tournament.

"Well, all our champions are ready for the second task, which will start on my whistle. They have precisely an hour to recover what has been taken from them. On the count of three, then. One . . . two . . . three!"

The whistle echoed shrilly in the cold, still air; the stands erupted with cheers and applause. Hogwarts still seemed to favor Diggory overall, but Potter's track record with the dragon had pushed some people into The Chosen Ones favor.

Two of the champions, Delacour and Diggory, had done a bubble charm on their heads, something quite simple. They would have to work fast though, considering the limited amount of air they both would have. Krum jumped too quickly into the water for Lyra to really see what he had done, but it appeared to be some type of transfiguration spell based on how the shape of his face had begun to shift. Potter had thrown something in his mouth, something that seemed very hard to masticate based on how roughly he was chomping down on the item.

A pitter of nervous laughter ran out as Potter stood in the water and nothing appeared to be happening. It got louder until it spread to all of the schools.

"The nerve of these people!" Romilda glared into the stands. "Let's see them do this and see how far they get!"

"Harry can do it. He's an amazing wizard," Ginny announced, not one trace of doubt on her face. Ginny's assumptions finally came to life as Potter jumped into the lake, disappearing under its murky depts.

"Well this is panning out to be the most boring task of all," Mary sighed five minutes in, tugging on the fluffy ball at the top of her hat.

"I heard Krum's victim was Granger," Romilda said, running a hand through her hair nervously.

That explained Potter's lateness. Lyra couldn't help but wonder what Potter would do when they graduated and his friends were no longer attached to the hip with him.

"So… about Colin," Romilda said suddenly.

Lyra tensed, glancing around her in paranoia. "Are you _crazy_? I told you not to talk about that in public."

"Sorry, sorry," Romilda said quickly. "I'm just curious. I mean, I don't really get it. He's so weird! And he's always taking these pictures of you like a creep and he's even thinner than you are. I'm not saying you're fat or anything, on the contrary, but Colin is just so…" she faded off, unable to finish her sentence.

"It's a good thing that I like him and you don't then, isn't it?" Lyra said with evident irritation.

"I want to understand! That's all. I don't think I'll ever have another moment with you like this again! You've never liked anyone before."

"Can we please talk about this later," Lyra whispered.

Romilda nodded understandingly. "Yes, of course. But… if you like Co- _him_ , does that mean you're going to call off your betrothal pact thingy."

Lyra gave her a weird look. "I can't do that. My father has already chosen this path for me."

"But almost no one gets betrothals anymore! The only ones that do it are purebloods, and even some pureblood families allow their children to choose now. Look at Parkinson, she has the freedom of choice. So does Hannah Abbott and _Ginny_ and Zabini and, well, a lot of people."

"My family is a traditional pureblood family. My mother's marriage was arranged, so was my grandparents and so on. I'm starting to think that my father is going to end up letting my brother have a choice, or at least have a say in who he marries."

"Aren't you angry about that? I know I would be," Mary pointed out.

"I'm kind of used to it, actually. If my betrothed had been someone like, I don't know, Carrows or Yaxlay, then I would be fighting my father tooth and nail about it." Lyra shivered. She'd rather die than marry one of them, or run away. She wouldn't be able to stand it.

"Yaxley is an old man!" Ginny said disgusted.

Lyra pressed a stray strand of white-blonde hair behind her ear. "Yes, but he's still a pureblood and part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight."

"If you had the choice of a husband who would you choose?"

Lyra's eyes immediately darted over to Colin, who was furiously snapping pictures of the first champion, Fleur Delacour, to come out of the water. Lyra's brows furrowed and she stared down at her hands folded in her lap. "If my family wasn't a traditional pureblood family and didn't care who I married, I'd probably wait like all of you."

But that one glance towards Colin Creevey had told them all they needed to know.

* * *

A/N: Some of the sentences when Ludo Bagman speak are taken directly from the book.

Guest comments:

Allie- I always wanted to do a character that was completely horrible and had nothing too good going for them and see if people will empathize with them haha I always want to know how far I can push. :P

Guest #1- That's what I like to hear! I'm trying to update more but I don't want to run out of chapters! Especially when I've been in a slump for the past month with the last ten chapters I've been working on.

Guest #2- Thank you! There's a few, although they're not exactly what people would picture family bonding is haha the Malfoy's are a bit different in that regard.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

* * *

There were many whispers filling these stone walls.

But Lyra was only interested in a few of them. One of them happened to be about her father. It was a well-kept secret. She only knew because her brother had told her that the Slytherins had been talking amongst each other nonstop of it. There was a rumor circulating about that said Lucius Malfoy had incriminating evidence against the Prime Minister. What that evidence was, Lyra was not sure. Not even Draco knew. Lyra wasn't even positive if this bit of gossip was true, but she was almost certain it had been her father that started it. He enjoyed starting dissent by starting up slanderous whispers that sluggishly undulated itself through the masses. This had his touch written all over it.

The other was more sinister. It was about the Dark Lord, how he was beginning to gain power and come back. Lyra thought that rumor was ludicrous. The Dark Lord was dead, killed by a child that was barely one year old almost thirteen years back. The dead do not walk once they're lain to rest, not unless brought back by necromancy. But Inferi were mindless creatures, not even able to recall a single memory of their past life. They only did what a necromancer bid them, so calling back the Dark Lord in that way wouldn't be any more harmful than raising any other person or strange creature from their grave.

Father always refused to talk about the time the Dark Lord was at large, as did mother. They liked to act as if that period in their life had never occured, although Lyra had heard enough gossip to guess what their role had been in the Dark Lord's company. They wouldn't even tell her much about Aunt Bella, only that she was a powerful and beautiful witch and had married one of the Lestrange brothers. They had said she held their values also, but that fact was obvious.

The Great Hall filled with the fluttering of wings as owls rained down from the rafters, dropping packages into the waiting arms of Hogwart's students. The click of nails on the table sounded through the hollowed room as owls waited for treats for their hard work. To Lyra's surprise her father's great Eurasian Eagle Owl graced the table. Its five foot wing span was a bit big for any owl carrier, but her father always insisted on the most gaudy and extreme for a Malfoy.

"Merlin," Mary whispered. "I think that's the biggest owl I've ever seen."

Lyra snorted in amusement. "I'm sure it is. It's my father's. His old falcon carrier passed a few years ago and this owl replaced him. She's a bit too temperamental for my taste."

The owl tightly gripped the billowing sleeve of Lyra's robe and yanked in an attempt to get her attention. "Ignatia! Calm! Really, she has been trained not to do things like this," she muttered underneath her breath, frowning at the holes in her sleeve where its nails had punctured into the cloth. "Clearly those lessons haven't worked." Lyra gave up disciplining the owl and threw the abrasive creature a piece a bacon, watching as Ignatia immediately took to the sky.

Lyra cocked her head, hesitantly picking up the scroll with dainty fingers. Father rarely ever wrote her. The only time he did was when mother had penned a letter. He would add his own little note at the bottom if he had something to say to her, or ask mother to mention it in her own paragraph. It certainly had the official green, black, and silver seal of the Malfoy house. Trust her father to send something so official when dealing with family.

She broke the insignia easily, pulling at the corners of the note to unfurrow it.

 _Lyra,_

 _It seems my plans are starting to come to fruition. By the time summer ends and your fourth year begins you will be able to dine with your fellow Slytherins like you were meant to. You have played your role so wonderfully and have been so convincing that I'll be sure have enough supporters by then._

 _Always,_

 _Father_

She frowned, rereading the short note a second time to make sure she hadn't missed anything.

Perhaps some rumors were true.

* * *

On the day of the third challenge the Gryffindor table was much louder than usual. Of course, some of it was attributed to the fact that Rita Skeeter had written an article about Potter again.

"Hey, Potter! _Potter!_ How's your head? You feeling all right? Sure you're not going to go berserk on us?"

Lyra's brother obnoxiously dangled a copy of the Daily Prophet in his hands, a vicious smirk on his face. She had once asked Draco why such enmity lay between the two, but Draco had only gotten irritated and slightly uncomfortable at the question and gave a flimsy excuse to her about needing to reorganize his quidditch collection. Draco never changed his quidditch memorabilia around himself; he always got one of the house elves to do it. So Lyra knew for a fact it was a lie, but she let it go. She could tell he would only become annoyed with her pestering, and when Draco became irritated Lyra was bound to become that way also.

He could be such a nuisance when he wanted to be.

Classes flew by that day, Lyra barely paying attention to a thing the teachers spoke of. Her mind was on the third task. It looked a lot more interesting than the other ones. From what Lyra could tell it was some sort of maze. Ministry officials had been working on it for over a month now. There was sure to be dangerous creatures in it, creatures which Lyra was sure a fourth year student was not equipped to handle. She may not like Potter, but that did not mean she wanted him maimed or even worse: dead. There wouldn't be a Hermione Granger for Potter to default to either. He would be completely on his own.

"Are you coming to the last challenge? If you don't come now you'll be late," Ginny said, tugging on her arm.

"I'm coming. I'll meet you down there. Let me finish this one paragraph," Lyra murmured, her hand racing across the page in an attempt to finish her essay. Mary and Romilda had already gone down early. Both of them had been too excited to wait for Ginny and Lyra.

Ginny sighed but left, softly closing the door behind her. It took Lyra a few more minutes, but she did finish her essay. She dabbed her quill on a soft cloth to get rid of the spare ink before closing her ink with the stopper and neatly placing her quill on the dresser near her bed. The halls were eerily silent on her way down to the Quidditch Pitch. Most of the students had already made their way down there.

"Sneaking around while everyone is distracted, are ya?"

The clack of a peg leg hit the stone floor pulling the breath straight out of Lyra. She swallowed the knot that had appeared in her throat, but the thickness continued to stay there.

"Professor Moody, I was heading to the Quidditch Pitch."

His dark eye looked over her suspiciously while his electric blue one swirled rapidly in its metal socket. "Your father made a similar claim when testifying against his crimes in the first war. Good thing you've all got your money, isn't it?"

Lyra remained silent, staring down at the cold, grey floor. Only twelve steps away sat her salvation: outside. She would be free of him there, and he wouldn't do anything too suspicious to her out there in front of everyone. For a moment she thought of running to the door, but Moody would surely have her by then. He was trained to take down prisoners in similar situations.

"Soon you'll get your dues girl. Mark my words."

The rap of the wood hollowed in her ears as he left. She shivered, hurrying out the door in search of her friends. By the time she actually found them Potter, Diggory, and Krum had already entered the maze.

"You're late!" Romilda squealed, grabbing Lyra and hugging her tightly against her chest in her excitement.

"I know," Lyra muttered sullenly, peering around in paranoia.

"Did you get your essay finished?" Mary asked curiously.

The last bell rang, signaling Fleur Delacour to enter the maze. Lyra watched avidly as the part-veela hurried into the budding bushes.

"Of course."

"Did they ever say what was in there?" Romilda asked mildly.

"Blast-ended screwts for sure. My brother said Hagrid has been growing them for the past few months," Ginny announced.

They all shared a wince.

"Do you think Potter will be okay?" Romilda worried.

"He's done great these past two challenges. He'll do the same thing again," Ginny said certainly, her red hair billowing around her with the wind as she anxiously stood over the rail.

A burst of red sparks filled the air. All at once the group of witches and wizards hovering around the maze converged, and a few moments later a bedraggled Fleur Delacour was pulled out from the maze.

"It seems she didn't do too well in the tournament," Mary commented. "She was second to last for the first task and didn't even really place for the second. She had to be saved for this task too."

"I'm sure it's a lot harder than it looks." Ginny clenched the edge of the rail continuing her diligent search for any clue of the happenings inside the maze.

Not too long after Krum was pulled out, much to his own confusion and the wizards surrounding him. He seemed befuddled, to say the least. Romilda said they were saying something about Krum not remembering even entering the maze, which made no sense. Mary voiced the overall opinion that Romilda must have read their lips wrong, even though Romilda was the best lip reader out of all of them. Lyra's chances of getting words right when lip reading were fifty-fifty, so usually Lyra abstained from such things. Mary was an absolutely horrid lip reader, and Ginny could do well at it when she really payed attention. Currently Ginny's mind was elsewhere with Harry Potter still in the maze, so she couldn't contribute much besides agreeing that Romilda must have misunderstood.

An hour ticked by and there was still no sign of Potter and Cedric Diggory. Even the professors were beginning to fret, nervous gestures between them all flying about. The wringing of hands, rubbing the hem of a sleeve between fingers; pacing back and forth while muttering under their breath. Such behaviors were rubbing off on everyone. Beauxbaton and Durmstrang were still keeping watch too even though it was obvious both schools had lost.

Potter and Diggory both appeared suddenly in front of the maze entrance, both covered in dirt and grime. Potter seemed to have a cut somewhere on him, fore there was blood covering almost the entirety of his left sleeve. Neither of them moved, not until Professor Dumbledore turned Potter over to fretfully look him in the eye.

"What are they saying," Mary pressed, staring at Romilda.

Romilda squinted her eyes, attempting to make out any words. But then Cornelius Fudge made his way over to them and started shouting in a tortured voice.

"My God— Diggory! Dumbledore— he's dead!"

The words caused a stirring in the crowd. Whispers, louder than shouts filled the air. 'He's dead!' 'He's dead.' 'Cedric Diggory! Dead?' all of them said. Lyra remained wordless, staring wide eyed in disbelief. Professor Dumbledore said there had been casualties in previous tournaments, but he had seemed so adamant that the champions would all make it out alive. Professor Dumbledore had specifically said they had made it safer. She wouldn't believe the ramblings of a paranoid, easily overcome Prime Minister.

Her father had attributed to some of that paranoia, but still.

Girls were beginning to hysterically sob, all of them admirers of the well liked boy. Cho hadn't moved since both the champions had appeared out of thin air. She didn't even seem to be breathing. Fudge and Dumbledore were attempting to pry Harry's hands off of the still motionless Cedric. The-boy-who-lived didn't seem to be comprehending what they were saying, still bleary eyed and confused. Mad-Eye finally pulled Potter out of his stupor and they walked out together into the Main Hall.

A portly man with a scrubby brown beard and oval glasses pushed through the crowd, a woman faintly bearing features similar to Cedric following. It wasn't until the man fell to the ground in grief did the words truly hit her.

"My boy!" he cried out. "What have you done? What have _they_ done?"

The woman let out a screech, reaching for the dead boy's body and tugging surreptitiously at the his sleeve before giving up and covering his upper body with her own, her chest jerking with the harsh sobs coming out of her chest.

Romilda threw herself into Lyra's collar sniffling. Lyra absentmindedly rubbed Romilda's back, still attempting to gain her bearings from the events still unfolding. She hadn't known Cedric very well, had barely said more than a few words to him. But his death still hit her hard. He was only seventeen, and Lyra knew him to be very kind and considerate despite his fan club. She wouldn't wish this upon anyone, not even her worst enemy.

* * *

The students went into the Great Hall for their last meal together a few days later. The dining area had never appeared so drab before, and it seemed to be mourning just as the students were. Instead of the colors of the house that had won the cup, black draperies laid behind the faculty staff; with the occasional floating black candle and a murky sky painted across the ceiling.

"The end," said Dumbledore, looking around at them all, "of another year."

He paused, and his eyes fell upon the Hufflepuff table. Theirs had been the most subdued table before he had gotten to his feet, and theirs were still the saddest and palest faces in the Hall.

"There is much that I would like to say to you all tonight," said Dumbledore, "but I must first acknowledge the loss of a very fine person, who should be sitting here," he gestured toward the Hufflepuffs, "enjoying our feast with us. I would like you all, please, to stand, and raise your glasses, to Cedric Diggory."

All of them toasted their fallen comrade, even the Durmstrange and Beauxbaton's students. Not even the Slytherin's abstained.

"Cedric was a person who exemplified many of the qualities that distinguish Hufflepuff house," Dumbledore continued. "He was a good and loyal friend, a hard worker, he valued fair play. His death has affected you all, whether you knew him well or not. I think that you have the right, therefore, to know exactly how it came about." His solemn eyes locked onto the Gryffindor table, presumably on the withdrawn student with a mop of messy black hair and bright green eyes.

"Cedric Diggory was murdered by Lord Voldemort."

Lyra's lungs stopped working all at once.

Frightened whispers filled the hall, making the air thick and overbearing. Many of the students did not seem to believe the elderly headmaster, but some did. She could tell by their eyes, the desolate curve of their back as they huddled into themselves. Watery eyes and lips pinched shut in an attempt to keep it together. Lyra searched the Slytherin table, locking eyes with Draco finally. He seemed troubled, unsure of how to proceed. But she could tell he was afraid, even if he didn't realize it.

Soon after Dumbledore ended his speech a flood of mail entered the hall, much more than usual. A delicate looking owl stopped in front of her, nibbling lightly on her finger. She turned to see that Draco had gotten an owl from father, the giant bird practically hissing as it waited for a treat. She was happy in that moment to have gotten her mother's.

She pulled a piece of sausage off her plate, holding her palm flat as her mother's owl gracefully nibbled on the piece of meat until it was all finished. Then she took flight in a flurry of wings, leaving a feather as a token in her wake. Lyra watched her disappear from view before turning her attention to the familiar loopy writing of her mother. Lyra carefully broke the seal, pulling the parchment straight in order to read it.

 _Dearest Lyra,_

 _I must first congratulate you on another year at Hogwarts. I'm sure you have done wonderfully grade-wise. I shouldn't say much about this, but certain circumstances have come up forcing your father to give up his endeavor he has been chasing for years and trade it for another. As such, your father and brother will oftentimes be very busy this summer and it is your parents' wish for you to spend the summer familiarizing yourself with your betrothed. It is all arranged for you already._

 _You shall be picked up by the Flints at King's Cross and stay with them for the entirety of your vacation. Think of it as bonding time with your future intended and his family. We shall be able to see each other for the briefest of moments at the train station hopefully, so I will say now not to forget to write your mother. Do not forget your mother loves you, as does your father in his own way._

 _With all my love,_

 _Mother_

She was almost certain Draco was getting a similar and opposite letter stating some of the same information for his skin took on a paler hue at whatever father had wrote. They both met each other's eyes once more, getting up as one and leaving the great hall in sync.

"What did mother tell you?" he demanded immediately.

Lyra sniffed, turning her back to him. "What did father tell you?"

"Lyra," he said with warning, at the end of his patience.

She remained another moment in stubborn silence before conceding. "Mother says I am to stay with the Flints this summer."

"Good." The relief was clear in his voice. "Father says our… guest will often be visiting at the manor."

Lyra turned around immediately, taking a step closer with panic in her eyes. "What do you mean? Where will you go for the summer?"

"With father, I suppose," he said noncommittally.

"Wait, you're not leaving too?"

He shook his head sluggishly. His face blank of all emotions as he watched her. "I'm the heir," he offered as an explanation.

"But that doesn't mean- you can't just." She clutched her head, rubbing her temples with her fingers. "Father and mother never speak of that time in their lives, but you know it ended wretchedly for them. That much is obvious. You can't possibly want this."

"It doesn't matter what I want."

"But it does! This isn't just father's future, or the future of our family, it's yours too!"

"And what do you think will happen if both of us leave? Who will he come after if something is so clearly amiss?"

Lyra clutched at her hands, twisting and rubbing nervously as she stared at him. "Then why do I get away? Why not you?"

"The reason you always do." When Lyra only gave him a confused look, he continued, "Because you're female and younger; because I am male and heir. It is my responsibility to do this. Father feels the same way." Lyra remained silent and he sighed, running a hand through the white blonde hair atop his head. "I know you think I have my bouts of childishness, but I think I am entitled to them. One day I will have to be more like father. I know this. I'm enjoying my youth while it lasts, and it does seem like it will end soon."

No words could be uttered from her lips. She stared open mouthed, eyes blinking rapidly as she thought his words through. Perhaps she had misjudged him, maybe they all had. Draco had known his responsibility all along. He knew what was expected of him, he just hadn't planned on growing up until he had to. Maybe Lyra should have done the same. Maybe then she would have understood her brother more and they would have gotten along better.

"I love you Draco." She said it for the first, and perhaps, the last time.

He smiled softly, shaking his head as he placed his hands in his pockets sheepishly. "I love you too."

* * *

A/N: Some of the sentences, particularly when Draco ridicules Harry and when Dumbledore gives his speech, are taken from the book.

With my beta going on x-mas break I'm attempting to furiously type out these chapters. I had been hoping to finish writing it before the new year began, but I'm not too sure now, and extra chapters keep popping up. I'm currently writing the Battle at Hogwart's so I'm getting closer to the ending, although it does not end how HP does.

Guest Reviews:

Allie- Haha yeah I never planned that out either! It was a surprise to me too when he popped up. I never planned for him to be much of an impact character when I did the first outline.

Guest #1- I actually laughed out loud at your review haha

Guest #2- Thanks ;)


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

* * *

Even though Flint Manor was only about half the size of the Malfoy residence, it made up for it with its grandeur. Danold Flint, Marcus' father, was a corpulent man of a towering height that often liked to point out all the things that had been renovated in his time. Those moments were particularly rare since he was more often than not running the gambling ring he owned in Knockturn Alley. He usually ignored her, shoving on thick reading glasses to go over his profits in his business office that was just left of the library. Lyra would often peer inside the room in curiosity before scurrying away to her own which was close by. Her room looked as if it had once been in the ownership of a female, with soft pink, old fashioned draperies and bedding; a classic vanity with a large mirror and bench to sit upon; and a connecting bathroom filled with excessively strong perfume and white powders. When Lyra had asked about it Marcus had shrugged before admitting it used to be his great aunts room that had died when he was a child. When she pressed further he admitted he had never been in there, but did know she had passed in that very same bed.

To say the least, Lyra found it very creepy to be sleeping in the same bed someone died in. Only the house elf had been in there since, and she had reassured Lyra the linen had been cleaned for her arrival. Her mind put at ease, Lyra began resting fitfully again.

The Flint Manor was much more of a bore than Lyra had anticipated. On the bright side, she was starting to know her betrothed very well. She knew his favorite breakfast, toast with strawberry jelly on top with blueberries and a banana on the side. She knew his favorite quidditch player, Indira Choudry. Lyra believed he favored her for her beauty more than anything. She was a dirty blonde with pouty lips that was often depicted with a scowl of concentration upon her face. Marcus would grin every time he saw the famous quidditch player, much to Lyra's amusement.

She had also found Marcus hadn't been kidding when he said he helped his father out with the family business. He kept long hours on most days, although every now and then he would come home early and they would spend the day together in the quaint garden surrounded by trees.

She had really begun to enjoy her time with Marcus Flint, her thoughts of Colin pressed to the side for the moment. It would be ridiculous to act upon her feelings with Colin. It would be like her mother's sister who was burned off the family tree, her name not even allowed to be mentioned in passing. Lyra couldn't be that aunt. Lyra couldn't just give up her family like that.

She had begun to regularly correspond with her mother during this time. Most of the time the responses were short, and Lyra had started to realize this was because there was no good news to share. The shorter the letter, the more Lyra worried. She wasn't quite sure exactly what was going on at Malfoy Manor, but it certainly could not be good.

Her mother focused on happier things, such as the peacocks that flocked in the garden herding their young, or how wonderful the weather was that day. Once Lyra had worked up the courage to ask her mother about the Lovegoods and whether they were a relative of the Malfoys because of their similar coloring. To Lyra's surprise the next morning a bulky package sat in her window, carried by two of father's largest owls. Inside was an ornate bowl filled seemingly with water, a note attached to the side of it.

 _We do happen to be related to the Lovegoods, if a bit distantly. If it is our genealogy you have questions about I have sent our family tree to you. Simply scrawl on a piece of parchment your question, or who you are attempting to research, then drop it into the vessel. The surface will shimmer with your answer._

 _With much love,_

 _Mother_

She had poured over the contraption ever since. Her parent's really were not joking about the Malfoys being related to just about every pureblood family around. Through her diligent research she had found out she was third cousins with Kinglsey Shacklebolt, an auror of renowned esteem. Her great-great aunt had married into that family.

Lyra thought silently to herself, scrawling on a piece of paper, _"Is Lyra Malfoy related to the Selwyn family?"_

She dropped it into the liquid, watching as it rippled and disappeared out of sight. The Selwyn line had been extinct for generations. They had been known to have powerful magic, but always had difficulties with breeding. Many losses decorated their family tree, the black 'X's' surpassing even the living until none were left.

A moment later, words appeared along with a picture of a decently pretty witch with dark blonde hair pulled into a sophisticated chignon.

 _The very last Selwyn married into this grand family four generations ago. Amelia Selwyn was an avid gardener, her free time going to creating the upscale apple and pear orchards the Malfoy family are known for. She birthed five children, one making it into adulthood. Titus Malfoy was her only surviving son, going on to become the family head and making Lyra Malfoy the direct descendent of her._

She stared at it thoughtfully, watching as the words swirled into oblivion until only the surface of the liquid was reflected back into her eyes. She scratched down another question.

 _"Who are Narcissa Malfoy nee Black's sisters?"_

It took a moment longer than normal to respond.

 _My apologies, but that question was unable to be resolved. Only questions about the Malfoy family can be answered._

She leaned back in her chair with slumped shoulders, grumbling under her breath in irritation. It had been worth a try.

 _"Is there a family of the Sacred Twenty-Eight not related to the Malfoys?"_

It churned as a response slowly surfaced.

 _The Bulstrodes, Parkinsons, and Averys have never been related to the Malfoys by blood. That is not to say that the women who married into the Malfoy family are not related to these individuals.  
_

That was more than Lyra thought initially. It was much more likely that vanity had kept the Parkinsons and Bulstrodes from joining the Malfoys in holy matrimony. Both families were known to be quite beastly in appearance. The Averys had always been conniving and cruel, which may explain why the Malfoys had never joined with them. Family loyalty was very important to a Malfoy, and that included protecting each member from people such as the Averys.

 _"Show each generation of the Malfoy family in picture form."_

She tossed the paper in carelessly, waiting studiously for the results. One by one each generation of Malfoys were shown on the reflective surface, starting from the bottom and creeping further up until it went completely out of view. She cocked her head in confusion before experimentally poking at the liquid in the vessel. To her surprise it inched up, forcing Draco and Lyra Malfoy out of view and replaced it with the names Manten Malfoy and Nelly Malfoy nee Burke. To the side it had Meric Malfoy and Anya Malfoy nee Crouch. It seemed the Malfoys had branched out once. A Malfoy having more than one male was rare, but it had apparently happened at least once in the past. But those two names had been the end of that line because no names flowed beneath them, not even the dark X's that signaled an early death.

She hesitated on Brutus Malfoy, noting the strange etching on the left side of him. It was blurry there, whatever it was. His wife was on the right side, so it wasn't her. Lyra poked at the fuzzy spot and it rippled, undulating calmly until serene once more.

 _"Who is to the left of Brutus Malfoy?"_ she asked it. The diagram snapped out of view. She leaned closer to get a better look at the words forming.

"What are you doing?"

She jumped, startled by the sudden intrusion, turning towards the white framed doorway where her intended stood. She placed a fingertip in the bowl, stirring the answer away before he could lay his eyes upon it.

"Looking at my family tree."

He grinned. "What have you learned so far?"

"That it's been seven generations since the Flints and Malfoys have wed," she said teasingly.

He pulled a chair closer to her, twisting it so that the back of the chair was facing her and sat down, his legs parting and arms resting on the upper part of the chair where normally a head would lay.

"So that would make us not only man and wife, but seventh cousins?" he said, shaking his head in amusement.

"That it would," Lyra agreed. There had been closer marriages in her family. Her grandparents on her mother's side had been second cousins. Seventh was barely related.

Marcus held out his hand, giving her an expectant look. "Walk with me in the garden?"

She locked eyes with him for a moment, assessing him, before daintily placing her hands in his. Flint's hand was large and warm, almost two of her fingers thickness making up one of his. He pulled her gently out of her chair, his expression almost tender.

"So how do you keep up with your genealogy?" she asked as they walked down the stairs.

"We have a book, although it needs a bit of updating. My aunt used to keep up with it before she died. Since then no one has bothered to take up the task."

"Isn't it just you and your father with the last name Flint?"

He hesitated. "Well, my father has a brother, but he almost never comes home. Uncle never bothered to start a family either. Last I heard he was somewhere in Germany. The luck of a second son, I suppose."

"He doesn't help run the business?"

"No, every once in a while he comes home to beg for money, but that's it." He held the door for her as they departed the house, her skin soaking up the summer rays greedily.

She worried for her future. For her family and her betrothed's too. So far both the elder and younger Flint had abstained from joining either side, but she felt like it was only a matter of time.

Her family was already embroiled with the Dark Lord. She was certain her father was off doing the Dark Lord's bidding at this very moment. She had found out from the elder Flint that her father had been the Dark Lord's right wing man in the first war. She wasn't sure of her father's current standing, but he must be pretty high in the hierarchy. That meant when things went bad most of it would fall on him, although the reverse would also be true. As for Draco, she couldn't be sure. He was underage after all, and from what she understood the Dark Lord did not have a track record of placing dark marks on underage children. He had used them for spies though. Lyra hoped her brother would only be used in this way.

It was strange to acknowledge that the free world may rest on the shoulders of a fifteen year old boy. Potter had strong magic, but to vanquish the Dark Lord again would be no small feat. She wasn't even sure if Potter could do it, but if anyone had that capability it would be him, his friends, and Dumbledore.

As it was, Harry Potter was the current laughing matter of the whole wizarding community. It seemed like every day there was a quip written in some article or another. Everyone believed the boy-who-lived to be either insane, attention seeking, or a spoiled child. But for those that knew his words rang true, they remained oddly silent. It was all very convenient for the Dark Lord, something that wasn't very agreeable for Lrya. The Dark Lord's quest was being made much easier by Fudge's idiocies.

Lyra began to chastise herself. Thinking this way was dangerous. Even her mind was no longer safe, anyone could be listening knowing the Dark Lord's power in occulmency. She straightened her back, changing her thoughts to something more mundane, more privileged and inane.

The flowers were beautiful. It was a lovely day. She was a traditional pureblood enthusiast. She believed in the Dark Lord's plight. Purebloods were supreme beings and muggleborns, no _mudbloods_ , needed to be put in their proper place.

But her mind rebelled against such thoughts.

* * *

Dinner tended to be a silent affair. The elder Flint was inclined to eating his food and then retreating into his study, or going back to his place of business. Marcus Flint would say a few words to her during meal times, asking about her day or some similar pleasantry, and then either spend some time with her, retreat to his room, or go back to work with his father. The latter of the three was an option seldom chosen. Marcus enjoyed his nights free of work very much.

"Is the food to your taste?" Danold Flint probed.

"Yes, it agrees very well with me." She gave him a forced smile that he didn't seem to catch onto, a family trait. Marcus remaining oddly silent and concentrated on the plate before him.

"I've always enjoyed quail… the meat is so tender." He zealously brought another bite to his mouth, humming under his breath in delight. His eyes suddenly shot to her. "Say, do you keep up with your parents?"

She took a moment to finish chewing the food in her mouth. "I keep up with mother. Father has never been one for letters." At least not personal ones. He sent business letters out all the time.

"I've been hearing interesting things about your family." He took another bite, pointing the fork towards her. "I hear the Dark Lord is working on a large coup. I hear his plight will be brought to Azkaban."

Marcus' brows merely rose at the information, but Lyra choked. "What do you mean?" she asked, hurrying to take a drink of water.

"I mean," he said, leaning closer towards her and lowering his voice to a whisper. "The Dark Lord intends to take care of his most faithful followers." He sat back knowingly in his chair. "One hears many things at a betting ring."

* * *

Guest Comments:

Allie- Haha they you knew better than I did! I didn't know I was going to write that until I did the scene. I'm glad you liked it. I know a lot of people like the Draco/Lyra scenes, as far and few as they are.


	21. Chapter 21

Just a quick announcement. The rating of this story has been raised to M because of future chapters. I will put warnings on the tops of those chapters when the time comes and/or announce that the next chapter is rated M.

* * *

Chapter 21

* * *

 _My dearest Lyra,_

 _I hope you are taking the time to know the young Marcus Flint better. Most of us never get the chance to really know our intended. It is my greatest hope you make the most of this time. I'm sure you would like to know that if you find him completely incorrigible I could probably convince your father to take his search of a husband for you elsewhere despite the repercussions. I would still like for you to try to make things work with him. Think of this time as a test run for your future marriage._

 _With love,_

 _Mother_

Lyra didn't think much of her future if this was supposed to be a test run. So far all that had happened since coming here was she would spend the occasional moment with Marcus. The rest of the time she was alone. It seemed married life would be quite lonely based on her mother's advice. But then mother was in a similar situation. Father was often off on a business venture, leaving her mother alone during the day and occasionally at night too. This situation was probably normal for purebloods. At least her betrothed wasn't completely horrid. She'd rather stick it out with Flint in case the next one her father picked out was much worse. She could only go down from this point.

It surprised her that mother would allow such a thing; for Lyra to break her contract and marry someone else of respectable upbringing. Lyra never thought she had much of a choice in this, not that she had been too bothered by that.

It just felt more freeing.

That if, worst came to worse, she could get out of it. She smiled softly, sticking her mother's note in a dark green box with golden accents on it. She had placed all her letters from her mother in it thus far.

A loud, resounding POP filled the air. She jumped, turning around to reveal a house elf rushing around to make her bed. Lyra watched the creature thoughtfully, deciding to act upon an opportunity she may never get again.

"Hello," she said cautiously, unsure of the creature's temperament. All house elves aimed to please, but some of them were surly at best to anyone but their master.

The house elf stopped immediately, turning around awkwardly with knees turned in. "The Misses talks to Warble?" An ear cocked in question. Lyra hurried to nod her head. "Oh, the misses gives Warble such honor! To talk to Warble?" It began twitching in excitement. "Warble is a good house elf, that she is!" the elf assured Lyra with large, blinking eyes. "Warble keeps all the linens pressed, that she does. Warble feeds master and his guests. Warble is a good elf." The house elf attempted to scurry out of the door and out of view, mumbling about dusting the walls.

"Wait, Warble!" Lyra called out, racing after the house elf. "I want to ask you something!"

Warble stopped her fanatic dusting immediately. "What can Warble to do assist the young Miss Malfoy?"

"I know you were around for the first war. I was wondering if you could answer some questions for me."

Warble nodded in rapid secession, her over-sized head shaking back and forth so tumultuously that Lyra was certain it would make the house elf fall backwards. "Anything Warble can do to assist, she will. The illustrious Miss Malfoy spending the summer! Warble is pleased!" The elf took a step closer, kissing the hem of her robes. "Master says you shall be joining the House of Flint in matrimony. You shall be Warble's mistress! Warble hasn't had a mistress in many years."

"I-yes," Lyra agreed haltingly. She took a step back from the simpering Warble. "I was only wondering if you have ever heard anything about my mother's sisters. Narcissa Malfoy is my mother."

"Oh, yes. Mrs. Lestrange was an outstanding witch, that she was! Master fancied her when in Hogwarts," she whispered with a resolute nod. "A very beautiful witch, and very powerful too!"

"What about my mother's other sister?"

The house elf blinked, reaching towards the nearby shelf and anxiously picking up her dusting again. "Mrs. Malfoy has no other sister, she does not. Only Mrs. Bellatrix Lestrange!"

"But she used to," Lyra probed patiently. "You must know something about her."

Warble began gnawing on her lip like a caged animal, muttering under her breath with bulbous darting eyes. She abruptly began banging her head on the nearby wall, punching herself in the eye until Lyra forced both of Warble's arms down.

"That was a blood traitor! Filth! Master does not like filth! We clean it all up and get rid of it! Mrs. Malfoy only has one sister! One! One! One!" The house elf began chanting over and over again, tripping around in its wild panic and creating a racket. Lyra looked nervously over her shoulder, hoping neither of the Flints were home.

"Okay, okay! My mother has only one sister! You're right! I don't know where I got such an idea."

All at once the house elf calmed, swaying back and forth on its feet tired with relief. "Oh, mistress is right! Mistress is very right! Only one aunt for the young mistress. Miss Andromeda is no more!"

Lyra let out a gasp, staring wide eyed at the house elf. It immediately noticed its mistake, taking the time to punch itself a couple of times before disappearing with a loud SNAP.

Andromeda.

Her missing aunt's name was Andromeda. Finally, after all these years she had a name. Lyra wasn't sure if Warble meant her aunt had died or she was no longer allowed in pureblood society by that last comment. But Lyra now had the biggest piece of the missing puzzle, and it was somewhere to start.

Of course, she couldn't look more into her aunt here. Lyra couldn't afford to arouse suspicion. Not with her family where they were now.

* * *

The train ride back to Hogwarts was an awkward affair. Ginny hadn't even appeared during the train ride. Mary and Romilda attempted to keep a conversation going, but they were struggling. It was clear what was on everyone's mind.

"No summer romances this year?" Lyra finally asked, deciding to finally join them in conversation. Romilda gave her a relieved grin.

"Not this time. I was too busy attempting to organize the Harry Potter club. We plummeted in numbers this summer, and the president graduated so I received her position." She said this bit with pride, her chest puffing out with a smile creeping on her face.

"Congratulations Romilda!" Lrya said warmly.

"Yes, well Harry needs the support now more than ever with the ministry the way it is and all."

"What's wrong with the ministry?," Mary said sharply, glaring at Romilda.

All at once it was clear exactly why it had been so quiet in the compartment. Mary and Romilda must have had a row about this very subject during the summer, and both had been trying to avoid bringing it up.

"They're blacklisting Harry is what!"

"They are not! Potter is making up nonsense! He's overreacting, is all. Seeing someone die is a very traumatizing experience. I wouldn't be surprised if he's been hallucinating ever since."

"So now he's crazy," Romilda hissed.

"No! I never said that! But- Harry saw someone die, probably tragically. Not everyone is going to be okay after that."

Romilda sniffed, crossing her arms across her chest and tilting her chin in the air. "You just can't accept that _you-know-who_ may be back."

"He's not back!" Mary said immediately. "All we have for proof is what a traumatized boy says!"

Normally Lyra would have stepped in by now, but she couldn't bring herself to. Not about this.

"What do you think Lyra?!" Mary burst. They both sent her expectant looks.

Lyra felt herself pale, her stomach churning with the unanswered question. "I'm not sure," she began.

"Oh don't be coy," Romilda grumbled. "Everyone knows the Malfoys were thick as thieves with you-know-who during the last war. If anyone knew if he-who-must-not-be-named had been brought back to life, it would be you."

Apparently everyone had known this little fact about her family but her.

"I-" she took a deep breath in to settle herself. "I don't know. I didn't go home this summer. I spent the summer at the Flint residence."

They both stared at her with wide eyes, momentarily forgetting the argument at hand.

"Wait, _what?_ " Mary stuttered. "Did you get…" she trailed off with a horrified look on her face.

"No!" Lyra denied immediately. "No to whatever you're thinking."

"So you didn't shag him?" "You didn't get married?"

Mary and Romilda both spoke at once. The first question had Lyra turning an ugly shade of violet.

"WHAT? No! I- purebloods are very chaste! At least the traditional ones are. Flint wouldn't suggest it, let alone try! All he did was hold my hand. And definitely no to the second one! I'm only fourteen! It would be obscene to get married now!"

Romilda began twiddling her thumbs sheepishly while Mary looked anywhere but at Lyra, scratching the back of her neck awkwardly.

"I know you guys think betrothals are odd and all, but they're not that bad," Lyra said, imploring them to understand.

Mary sighed. "I know. I'm sorry. It's just so different and foreign. I never thought I'd meet anyone that was betrothed, let alone become best friends with them."

At least Romilda and Mary had momentarily forgotten their argument. But it was sure to come up sooner or later. She only hoped she wasn't there when it happened.

"Does anyone know where Ginny is?" Romilda asked curiously.

"I'm not sure. She's been oddly quiet this whole summer. She barely responded to any of the owls I sent," Mary murmured.

"I thought it was only me," Romilda muttered under her breath. "Anyways, I have a lot of recruiting to do this year. I hope we can get more people into the club." She turned to them hopefully. "Hey, what do you two think about-"

"No," Mary interrupted dryly, stopping Romilda in her tracks before she could even ask. Romilda sighed tiredly, her shoulders slumping down as she turned to look out the window. It was going to be a long ride.

They didn't run into Ginny until they got to the Great Hall where she was patiently waiting for them at the Gryffindor table.

"Where were you for the train ride?" Romilda asked curiously, taking a seat.

"With Harry. Both Hermione and Ron are Prefects so he would have been alone." Ginny hesitated. "Well, he would have been with Neville and Luna too, but frankly I think Luna freaks him out. She's very... honest."

Lyra nearly snorted. Luna tended to have that effect on people.

"I think Harry likes Cho Chang."

Romilda stared at Ginny wide eyed and horrified. "He can't. He couldn't."

"She's pretty, I'll give him that," Lyra murmured. She didn't know the girl very well, but she knew _of_ her. Cedric and Cho had been a bit of a power couple in Hogwarts last year. Both of them were attractive and smart, not to mention kind. It was hard to find someone who didn't like the two Hogwarts students.

Her eyes met Colin's further down the table. He smiled and gave her a wink, before turning his attention back to the sorting. Lyra felt herself flush at his attention, rubbing at her cheeks in an attempt to make the heat go away.

"VANE, EMMA," McGonagall called out clearly, catching Lyra's attention. She turned with raised brows to Romilda but she only huffed, practically ignoring the confident first year striding up to the hat.

"She's your sister?" Ginny inquired.

"I wish she wasn't," Romilda said mulishly, pouting at the table. "I wish she was a _squib_. Then I wouldn't have to deal with her here. She's insane, completely barmy."

Ginny snorted and Mary fought a grin, shaking their heads in amusement.

"GRYFFINDOR!" the hat called out, making Romilda slink even further in her seat.

"I hate my life," Romilda muttered. "I hope she leaves me alone. I told her to, but then she never listens to anything I say. I should have told her to come to me for _anything_ , then she would leave me alone. She always does the opposite of what I say," she mumbled.

Romilda speaking of her sister Emma made Lyra think of Draco. She turned to the Slytherin table in search of him. It wasn't hard to find him with such rare coloring. He appeared to be fine, snickering with his friends like usual. Hopefully that meant summer hadn't been too hard on him.

A woman that looked suspiciously like a pink toad began some boorish speech about one thing or another. Lyra wasn't really listening. It all sounded very repetitive to Lyra, saying the same thing in various ways. Lyra found her completely idiotic. But the woman was to be the new DADA teacher for the year so Lyra knew she better get used to this.

Only Romilda and Lyra had signed up for Divination. Ginny and Mary said it was a load of poppycock. Lyra thought so too, but it was an easy grade. It wasn't as if she'd ever be able to make much of herself after Hogwarts. Her destiny had unfolded the moment she was conceived.

"What does your tea say?" Lyra asked, closing one eye and peering into her drink. As if the tea itself wasn't atrocious enough, she couldn't even make anything out of the left over strain. It just looked like a bunch of tea particles stuck to the bottom of a tea cup.

"I see a sun in mine," Romilda said knowingly with a smile. Romilda was an avid believer of the subject. "Happiness is a great premonition to have."

Lyra was still twisting hers all different sorts of ways in an attempt to make something out. She hit the tea cup sideways on the ledge of the table a few times hoping for the grinds to shift into something more substantial.

"Oh for heaven's sake," Romilda grumbled, taking pity on Lyra. She seized the cup from Lyra's hand and stared down into it. "I see…" she trailed off, staring at Lyra listlessly. "I see a cross."

"What does a cross mean?" Lyra asked, flipping through her book for such a sign.

Romilda placed the cup carefully on the table. "It means trials and suffering."

Lyra stopped pilfering through her book, bringing her gaze to Romilda's. "You're joking, right? …well, I'm sure it's just… figurative, you know?"

Romilda nodded quickly, her lips a worried line across her face.

"By the way, what does 'heaven's sake' even mean?" Lyra asked, leaning towards Romilda.

Romilda brushed her off with a wave of her hand. "Oh, it's a muggle religion thing. My father's an avid follower of it. My mum and I have never been very big enthusiasts, but Emma likes it some. Sometimes she even goes to that church thing with him."

Lyra had at least heard of a church. She had seen one from far away, with stained glass and a giant bell that tolled at every hour. Lyra had found the building and people surrounding it interesting, as they had something similar to wizarding robes on.

Later that day she ran into Draco in the hallway.

"Draco!" she called out. "Hold on!"

He turned around with a look of confusion on his face, motioning after a moment for his Slytherin posse to keep going.

"What do you want?" he asked with a delicate, arched brow.

Lyra frowned at him, wrapping her arms across her chest. "Are you okay?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" His brows furrowing down as he fully turned towards her.

"I just, I thought maybe something happened… this summer is all."

Comprehension dawned in his eyes. He smiled, placing both hands on her shoulders. "Lyra, don't you see? This is good news." He glanced around at the empty hallway, taking another step closer to her. "The Dark Lord is going to make everything right. You needn't worry anymore."

Her lungs hitched in her chest. "What does that mean?"

He stepped even closer, whispering in her ear, "He plans to rid the magical world of mudbloods. Make the muggle and magical world completely separate. It's what we've always wanted, remember? We used to talk about this all the time as children."

He pulled back to look at her, but she couldn't bring herself to meet his gaze. She had said some horrible things as a child about muggleborns. All of them she regretted. She used to think of muggleborns like one would a pest attempting to overtake someone's home. Lyra had been even more vocal than Draco about her hate at the time. Sure, he complained about it more, but Lyra had always said the most biting comments. They were swine, locust; a new form of the plague. Muggleborns had many names for her back then, all of them amusing Draco to no end.

"Oh, yes," she agreed softly, staring at the stone floor.

He took a step back and turned around, but not before calling back. "Don't you worry about anything Lyra. Everything will be taken care of."

That was Lyra's worst fear.

* * *

Guest Comments:

Allie- No, he's always been pretty nice to Lyra. She's just never had much interest in him in that way. For the second part, you'll find out eventually. ;)

Also, thanks to the other two guest that took the time to review! I glad you both like my story so much!


	22. Chapter 22

Quick note: For some reason I am unable to see or respond to any reviews from last chapter, except one. My review count has been raising but when I click to see them they are not there. I thought I was going crazy at first but now it's happened enough times for me to realize it's some type of error on the website's behalf. I've sent a email out to fanfiction and hopefully they can remedy this so that I will be able to respond to your reviews from chapter 21.

* * *

Chapter 22

* * *

Lyra sent a furtive glance at Ginny, watching her suspiciously from the ledge of her bed. She went to open her mouth but then closed it, chickening out before she could ask what she was trying to say. She gathered herself, forcing waves of calm to pass through her being.

"What do you think about Potter and what he's been saying about the Dark Lord returning?"

Ginny's brows rose. It seemed to be the last question Ginny expected Lyra to ask. "I believe him. You do know only Death Eaters call him the Dark Lord, right?"

Lyra blushed, her lips tightening as she turned away. "I-yes. Of course."

"Have you always used that name for him?"

"Yes," Lyra agreed, fiddling with the blanket underneath her. Her parents had always referred to him as such, so Lyra had done the same.

A silence filled the room, one where neither of them knew what to say.

"Let's go," Ginny said finally. "We don't want to be late for breakfast."

Neither of them could bring themselves to address the awkwardness in the room, the one elephant that stood prominently between them. Somehow Ginny knew Lyra's parents were involved with the Dark Lord. She hadn't said a word about it, but it was in her gestures; in the pauses and lulls in conversation. That one glance she would give Lyra when Ginny thought she wasn't paying attention. Sometimes Lyra would catch Ginny staring at her, Ginny's eyes piercing and observant. Other times it was the way she carefully avoided speaking anything about the war or the Triwizard Tournament. Ginny knew, but she was being cautious with that knowledge.

Ginny could also tell that Lyra did not have the same values as her traditional pureblood family did, which Ginny understood stuck Lyra in a rough spot. Lyra couldn't exactly give up information about the Dark Lord without notifying everyone about her family's involvement. Even if Lyra's family somehow made it through that unscathed, she would most likely be taken off the family tree. Lyra loved her family. She couldn't take it if they ever did that to her. She couldn't become nameless like her Aunt Andromeda, her family not even willing to acknowledge or speak her name. She'd rather die than have that happen. She had to protect her family, even if they were making bad decisions.

"Ginny! You're here!" Romilda said, watching the red head anxiously. "Can you do me a favor?"

Ginny sat down, grabbing a piece of toast and some bacon. "What?"

"Could you get a picture of Harry for me? I need it for the Harry Potter Club."

Ginny didn't falter in her resopnse. "Romilda, you know I support you and this weird Harry Potter fetish thing you've got going on, but I'm not going to exploit one friend for another."

"But Ginny," Romilda begging. "I really need it."

"I'm sorry. I can't help you," she said firmly.

Romilda crumpled, leaning her head against the table with her shoulders sagging forward. Lyra turned to see Colin a few seats down. She smiled at him, giving him a wave.

"Hey Romilda, did you ever think of getting Colin to give you a picture of Potter? Colin has a picture of everyone."

"Like he would give one to me. He's very protective of his pictures," Romilda said dejectedly.

Lyra smirked, standing up and strolling over to where Colin sat with his best friend, Jason McGee. Jason was a Scottish boy with a buzz cut which he'd had since entering Hogwarts. That was about all Lyra knew about the boy, except he was prone to random bursts of excitement. Kind of like Colin was.

"Colin, I need a picture of Potter."

Colin stopped mid chew to stare at her open mouthed. It wasn't until his friend nudged him that he seemed to get his bearings. "What? Why? You don't suddenly fancy Potter now, do you?"

"Of course not!" Lyra laughed, shaking her head. "Romilda wants it for that fan club thing of hers."

Colin scowled. "You know, Harry doesn't like that 'fan club thing.' He never has."

"Please?" she begged, giving him puppy eyes.

He stared at her, swallowing thickly before blinking and shaking his head. "What is she going to do with it?"

"Probably take turns with the other members snogging it," Lyra snorted. "Make a shrine? I don't know. Didn't ask."

A smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "A shrine, huh?"

"Yep. Who doesn't like some good old fashioned hero worship?" She gave him a winning smile.

"Okay, I'll give it to you under one condition: make sure they do not give it to the _Daily Prophet_ or any other public magazine."

"Of course," Lyra agreed readily.

Colin grumbled a bit before pulling his bag open and taking out an even smaller one. Lyra stared wide eyed at the collection of photos he kept on him. It seemed there was truth to what Marcus Flint had been telling her. There were a lot of pictures of her white blonde hair scattered in there, all taken without her knowledge or consent. When he noticed her gaze he flushed scarlet, shoving them back into the velvet sack. "I told you you're a good subject," he murmured, handing her a picture. "I just took this one a few days ago. They should be happy with this."

Emerald eyes shown back at her, the scar on his forehead a stark contrast from the rest of the boy-who-lived. "Yeah, this one should be good. Thanks."

She turned to walk away, still looking down at the picture in her hands. Potter appeared surprised, a hand reaching up to block his face. But he hadn't gotten it there in time.

"Lyra, wait!" Colin said, gathering his stuff and walking up to her. He stared at her, before inching over to whisper in her ear. "Do you want to go to Hogsmeade with me?"

Lyra flinched, her neck arching back instinctively making room between them. "Colin," she murmured. "You know I'm betrothed. It's not exactly a secret."

"Yeah, but it doesn't have to be a date."

She blinked. "So it would be you and me?"

Colin nodded.

"Alone?"

He nodded again.

"Colin, that's a date."

"Not if you don't label it that."

Lyra breathed in deeply, running a hand through her hair.

"Oh, come on! It will be fun! Where is your Gryffindor courage? You know you want to," he goaded.

If Colin only knew exactly how much Gryffindor courage she had. Maybe then he would leave her be.

"Okay," she began reluctantly. "But only this once! It's _not_ a date."

"Of course not," he grinned good naturedly. "It's just a meeting between two great friends."

"Yes."

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Well, I'll see you then for our date. I mean, our _friendly meeting_!" He gave her a teasing smile as he walked away, leaving Lyra to rub her forehead tiredly once more. Lyra wasn't exactly sure what she was thinking when she said yes to him.

 _You were thinking you liked him more than you should_ , a voice in the back of her head said.

Lyra grumbled under her breath, stopping where her friends sat to place the photo in front of Romilda. At first Romilda didn't seem to realize what it was. Then she froze, her mouth gaping open as she stared down at the small treasure.

"Lyra," she managed to get out. "How did you…."

"Colin," she answered simply, a self-satisfied smirk on her face.

Romilda immediately flew up at her, wrapping her in a tight hug. The mop of brown curls upon Romilda's head hit Lyra in the face. Some of it got in Lyra's mouth, a few pieces in her eyes. She attempted to spit them out, all the while with Romilda hanging off her neck like a human sized choker.

"Lyra! Lyra! Lyra! You're the best friend in the world! I love you so much! You're the best!" Romilda became reduced to fit of giggles, laying a slopping kiss on Lyra's cheek which Lyra wiped away as soon as she had proper use of her hands again.

"I think there's still a piece of her hair stuck to your eye," Mary snickered, shaking her head. "Better you than me."

"Lyra only got that picture because Colin is practically in love with her," Ginny stated unperturbed, stirring her oatmeal mildly.

Lyra's jaw dropped, her face taking on the color of the ripe strawberry jam sitting upon her toast. "I-Ginny!" Lyra garbled.

"What! It's true!" Ginny defended.

"I think I have a class to go to girls. See you two later," Mary said with a smirk, disappearing before she could be drawn into the conversation and forced to take sides.

Ginny placed a hand on Lyra's shoulder, leading her out of the main hall. "It's okay for Colin to like you, just like it's okay for you to like him back."

"I do not like Colin!" she vehemently denied, finding her voice.

Ginny snorted. "Keep telling yourself that."

* * *

Professor Umbridge was completely looney. Even more than Luna Lovegood, who was the strangest person Lyra knew. Umbridge expected everyone to be able to do a spell after only reading about it, and they were not allowed to use their wands in class. Fifth and sixth years were highly upset about it, especially after learning they were still expected to be able to perform each spell they read about in class during the O.W.L examination. Lyra hoped the defense professor curse was real because Lyra most certainly couldn't have a teacher that refused to teach the practical side of spells. Last night Mary had ranted about Professor Umbridge for hours. She mostly said the same thing over and over again, but that wasn't the point. All of her arguments were true. Mary was suggesting to start a petition to get Umbridge sacked. Ginny told her that would only get Mary in trouble, but Mary was stark, raving angry. She didn't care anything about that at the moment.

Romilda had more to say about the disgusting décor of the defense chamber. Kittens and a sickening pink covered every corner of the room. It was distracting to say the least, especially when sometimes the kittens would let out a meow whenever a student passed by. Romilda wanted to start a group that would infiltrate Professor Umbridge's classroom one night and vanish all the kitten artifacts and change it from garish pink to a calming blue. Lyra completely supported Romilda in this endeavor, but announced that she would not partake in the mission. Lyra had yet to get detention this year and she didn't plan on starting to get it now. The detentions last year with Moody had taught her _nothing_ was worth getting a detention over.

Ginny thought that placing Professor Umbridge as a teacher at Hogwarts was the ministries way of infiltrating the school, something they had never been able to do previously. Umbridge was here to make a point about the Ministries of Magic's stance on you-know-who. The pink colored toad said there was no reason to _use_ defensive spells, which was compete bollocks. Even if the Dark Lord was not returning people still needed to know how to use them. It's not like the world was a place of complete happiness and harmony. Just look at Yaxley and the Carrows. Both of them were mad in the head, their aim to cause pain and misery wherever they went. A person needed as much training as possible to make it against those three.

Lyra could firmly say Defense Against the Dark Arts was her most hated subject this year, and most boring. Well, perhaps not the most boring. Professor Binns and Umbridge probably tied for that.

"I want a foot of homework on my desk by next class about the applications of the Confundus Charm on centaurs," the pink toad croaked in her sugary, sweet voice.

Lyra merely grimaced, shoving all her things into an untidy heap and placing them in her bag. All of her friends would have to get together again for this class. Umbridge tended to be heavy handed when it came to homework, even more so than Professor McGonagall.

"I hate that crack pot," Ginny muttered as soon as they were out of the room. " _I want a foot of homework on my desk about the Confundus Charm_ ," she mimicked nastily in a little girl voice.

Lyra and Romilda snickered, completely agreeing with Ginny.

"She's such a horrible old lady," Mary grumbled.

"I bet everyone hated her when she was at school. That's probably why she's so foul," Ginny groused, still in a bad mood. "She's got Harry doing lines that cut his skin! Hermione told me so."

Mary gasped. "But Blood Quills are dark magic. They're illegal."

"It doesn't seem like the toad cares, does she? Umbridge is making up her own rules," Lyra said grimly. At least now she knew to be on her best behavior with the intolerable woman. It would only cause Lyra trouble because Lyra wasn't going to mar her skin with such a disgusting contraption that was filled with dark magic. She would refuse. Umbridge couldn't force Lyra to hold the quill and write. All she could do was either get her father involved, which would only help Lyra, or pull the ministry into it. But that would cause even more problems since her father would be sure to share with everyone exactly why Lyra was in trouble.

Or the alternative: be expelled.

"It doesn't matter. Let's just get our work done," Lyra mumbled.

* * *

A/N: I am now pretty darn sure that this fanfic will be exactly seventy chapters long. The last chapter, the ending of this story, finally feels right. I do not think anything more will be sneaked in by surprise either. It may end up being 69 chapters long if my beta agrees with me about one of the chapters being superfluous and just a creative outlet to me.

For a long time I was debating between who Lyra ends up with, and now I finally have decided. I could have ended it sooner, probably about 5-8 chapters sooner, but it would have left so many cliff hangers and over all would not have been a happy ending. I felt after everything Lyra had been through by the end of this tale everyone deserved to be comforted by her happy ending and to know for a fact everything righted itself and she could continue on living a happy life.

And that, is probably the biggest spoiler you guys will get from me. ;)


	23. Chapter 23

I CAN FINALLY SEE MY REVIEWS NOW SFFGDGFDSDD S Okay, I'm good now. I've been trying to reply to everyone!

* * *

Chapter 23

* * *

"High Inquisitor! What does a High Inquisitor even do?" Mary asked, incredulously turning the paper sideways as if it would somehow give her more information.

"I don't know. High Inquisitor stuff, I guess," Romilda shrugged.

"Dumbledore didn't hire her. It says so in the article," Ginny snorted. "The Ministry put her in place because Dumbledore couldn't find anyone to take the job. Not much of a surprise there."

"Wait, it says here High Inquisitor gets to look at teachers and judge whether or not they're doing a good job," Mary added.

"I hear she already judged Flitwick," Romilda gossiped, clutching tightly onto her notebook.

A silence lulled between them.

"So," Ginny said filling the empty space. "Do any of you have plans for Hogsmeade?"

"I just want to get my chocolate," Mary said softly. Every time there was a Hogsmeade trip Mary went to get some. More often than naught you could see her nibbling on a piece of it throughout the day. "I might stop to get a butterbeer too," she said absentmindedly.

"I don't really have any plans," Romilda muttered.

"I may have a date," Ginny said unsure. "Michael Corner's been making eyes at me. I'm gonna have to force him to talk."

Mary snorted. "I don't know why boys like you so much. It must be your _forceful_ nature."

Ginny flicked her hair behind her back with a knowing look in her eyes. "Some boys like that type of thing."

Romilda stared at them one by one before turning to Lyra. "I guess that means it's you and me, unless Mary decides to come with us."

Lyra shifted uncomfortably, unwilling to meet her gaze. She wasn't quite ready to admit to meeting up with Colin Creevey for the Hogsmeade visit.

"She's blushing. Lyra's hiding something from us," Mary pointed out teasingly.

"I am not!" Lyra hissed defiantly.

"What? Are you meeting Flint this time? It's okay, you know. We don't mind," Romilda assured her, placing her hand over Lyra's own.

"I'm not meeting up with Marcus. Besides, he's got a business meeting in Russia he has to go to for his father all this week."

Romilda shrugged. "Then what are you doing?"

Lyra fidgeted on her bench. "Nothing."

"So you'll be able to meet us at Hogsmeade then? Swell," Mary grinned, eyes filled with mirth.

"I-I have detention," Lyra said feebly.

"Lyra? Detention? The two words don't even belong in the same sentence," Mary brushed off.

"Seriously? What is it? I promise we won't overreact," Romilda said solemnly.

"I have to study."

"Bollocks," Ginny proclaimed, leaning closer to Lyra.

"Are you doing something with Luna?" Mary probed.

"Yes!" Lyra shouted, using her hand as a fan to stave off the heat flash spreading across her face. "I have to meet up with Luna."

"Good, then bring Luna along with you. We can all go together," Romilda said reasonably.

"Can't you tell she was just saying that to get us off her tail," Ginny snorted, shoving a piece of bread in her mouth.

"What is it then?" Romilda asked clueless.

Mary sent Lyra a shrewd look. "It doesn't have anything to do with Colin, does it?"

"Of course not!" Lyra burst, her voice breaking on every syllable.

Mary and Ginny broke out into raucous laughter. Romilda gave her a befuddled expression, as if she didn't quite get it.

"So what is it? You're meeting him for Hogsmeade? It's not a date, is it? I don't think Flint would be too happy about that," Mary commented.

"It's not a date! We're meeting as friends!" Lyra sputtered.

"Uh-huh," Ginny said unconvinced. "And did he tell you this?"

"For your information, he did," Lyra answered stiffly.

All of her so called _friends_ burst into giggles.

"If you're all going to laugh I'm going to leave," Lyra said testily, grabbing all of her things.

"No, wait! Lyra, I'm sorry. It's just… you're so gullible. You don't really believe Colin thinks that this is a get together between friends, do you?" Mary asked, placing her hand on Lyra's arm.

"I do. He told me so."

"He may have said that, but he's still going to think of it as a date," Ginny pressed anxiously. "I just want you to realize what you're getting into."

"Colin has liked you for a long time, years even. This is going to mean a lot to him," Romilda added.

Lyra stared at all of her friends uncertainly. Just because she was some type of muse to him didn't mean that he liked her. This was the first she had heard anything about this. "He knows we're going as friends. I told him so. He accepted it."

"That doesn't matter. Colin has wanted this since second year. Do you really think he's going to keep everything on a friend's only level?" Ginny didn't bother waiting for Lyra's reply, answering for herself. "No, he's going to pull out every trick imaginable without scaring you away in the process. This may be his only chance with you, and he's not going to give it up without a fight."

"How do you know that?" Lyra's voice wobbled, uncertainty in her eyes.

"Because every time he talks about you his feelings are obvious. McGee complains about it all the time about it. He says he's tired of Colin and his lovesick banter he's always spouting in their dorm. Colin may not say it directly to you, but he really does like you," Mary answered in a soft undertone.

"I- I already agreed," Lyra said with finality. "I told him I would come. I don't want to lie to him."

"Perhaps lying would be better than getting his hopes up. You're betrothed, that's not going to disappear anytime soon."

"But that doesn't mean I can't have any male friends," Lyra said desperately. "Colin is nice to me. He is kind and I enjoy spending time with him."

"You shouldn't, that's dangerous. How do you think Flint will react if he hears word about this?" Ginny said with warning in her voice.

Flint would probably flatten Colin. Her betrothed might not hurt Lyra, but he didn't hold the same qualms about other people. "I'll just make it clear we're only friends." At her friend's disbelieving faces, she said, "Merlin's beard! It will only be this once! It's not like a lot can happen with one visit to Hogsmeade!"

Her friends didn't seem very convinced of her words. And for some reason, Lyra felt the same way.

* * *

Ginny had managed to get herself a date with Michael Corner to Hogsmeade. The red head had been very excited about it, fretting over what she would wear and how she would do her makeup. Ginny didn't really wear makeup, so for her to do so was pretty big.

Lyra had no such issues about what to wear to Hogsmeade. It was a _friendly_ visit with a _friend_. She would wear what she normally did, some casual dress robes similar to the Hogwarts uniform with a few pieces of jewelry. A lot of people wore muggle clothing on the weekends and during Hogsmeade, but considering who Lyra's parents were Lyra didn't really own much muggle apparel. She didn't even really know how to wear them. There were so many different pieces, and so many shapes. They were quite strange looking.

"Be careful, okay?" Ginny said worried, fidgeting with Lyra's scarf.

"There's nothing to be careful about," Lyra answered nonplussed, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

Ginny sighed but didn't bother to debate the subject any further. She had made her opinion very clear, as had Mary. Romilda found it all very exciting, forbidden love and all. Romilda called Lyra and Colin a modern day Romeo and Juliette. After a short explanation of the muggle story Lyra couldn't help but roll her eyes at the comparison. There were two _big_ differences between her own life and that muggle story book.

Neither Colin nor Lyra were in love with each other, and neither of them were about to kill themselves over it either.

Lyra's friends were overreacting. Nothing was going to happen. She was going to meet Colin, they would have a butterbeer together, and then go their separate ways. Nothing more, nothing less.

For some strange reason Colin had asked Lyra to meet him at the Hogs Head instead of The Three Broomsticks. When she got there it was as shifty as the rumors said it was, with people in dark cloaks sitting as far as humanly possible from one another, cobwebs and dust coating nearly every visible surface. Even the mugs had a very unhealthy coating of debris on them. She certainly didn't want to know what it was.

Lyra only had to wait a few minutes for Colin to show up.

"Why did you want to meet here? Why not The Three Broomsticks?"

Colin shrugged, but Lyra could tell there was some hidden agenda for using the Hogs Head. Colin just wasn't willing to share it.

"Did you pass McGonagall's test? I swear I almost went bonkers attempting to finish it on time," Colin said.

Lyra laughed, the sound loud and uninhibited. It seemed to make the room stir, as if it had never witnessed such an emotion in the dingy pub that had an unmentionable smell in the air.

"I know! It was ridiculous! I didn't even know the answers to the last two questions. I made up some rubbish answer, something about how if one were to do an extra swirl with the Conjures spell it would become a toucan instead of a flock of birds."

Mirth shined in Colin's eyes. "I said the same thing, except they would all become neon green doves."

Lyra doubled over in laughter, clutching her side as she shook her head in amusement. "Maybe she'll give us extra points for creativity."

Colin snorted. "McGonagall? Extra points? That's a laughing matter."

"No, it's true!" Lyra said, inching closer towards him. "Once in second year I made up some complete nonsense about the Ducklifors Jinx and why someone would ever want to turn someone into a duck. I made an entire story up about it. McGonagall gave me extra points for, and I quote word for word, 'A creative mind and a titillating story amongst the deplorable efforts of your peers.'"

"You fib?" Colin gasped.

"I do not!" Lyra said affronted. She managed to keep her haughty expression in place for a moment before a smile turned at her lips. "I still haven't managed to get extra points since. I view it as a challenge."

"That was a once in a lifetime thing. The grades for that paper must have been really horrible."

"Oh, they were," Lyra assured him with a smirk. "I only passed that examination because of that answer."

Their conversation continued until dusk, neither realizing how fast the time was passing until one of the customers left, revealing the darkening sky as the door rotated out.

"We should go," Lyra pressed, already standing up.

Colin agreed, walking closely to her. So close that every now and then their hips would touch.

"I really had a lot of fun Colin," she grinned.

"Me too," Colin said with an odd look in his eyes. A look Lyra wasn't quite sure she was comfortable with. She turned a delicate shade of pink as Colin reached up to place a stray strand of hair behind her ear, taking the opportunity to caress her cheek as he brought his hand back to its normal sitting position.

"I-I should go," Lyra began, her eyes darting nervously from him to the bare walls surrounding them.

"Perhaps."

Lyra took a step back. "It's getting late."

He took a great stride towards her, theirs noses almost touching. This close, Lyra could make out the tiny specks of amber in his eyes.

"It is," he agreed.

"You shouldn't do that," she said, not meeting his eyes. But for some strange reason she couldn't make herself take another step away.

"You want to," Colin said without a doubt. It was flustering, how sure he was.

"You can't," Lyra tried, taking a small step back.

"Then stop me," Colin whispered breathlessly, molding his lips to hers.

* * *

Guest Comments:

Allie- Well I've already done up to chapter 63 so it's pretty much all written. What's taking the most time is editing between me and my beta. I write it then edit it twice, then send it to my beta, then edit the chapter another 3-5 times more. It takes a while to prepare a chapter haha. There's definitely more family fluff! I'm currently editing two chapters that are completely that.

Guest- Thanks! I update depending how much feedback I've gotten and how busy I am. I had planned on updating Tuesday but didn't get home till almost ten and said screw it haha so it always just depends.


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24

* * *

Even hours later she could recall the feel of his lips on hers; slightly dry, but soft, with the smell of butterbeer interlaced in his breath.

She was a stupid, stupid girl. She knew that it was wrong to kiss Colin, but for some reason she still did it. She couldn't bring herself to stop him. She was powerless against him. He held something inside of her Lyra didn't even know he had.

It was horrible. It was incredible.

She was living a lie.

She always seemed to forget that when with Colin.

Ever since then they had been sneaking off to empty classrooms and hallways to sneak stolen kisses. Lyra couldn't even bring herself to tell any of her friends. It would make everything more real. It would make Lyra have to come up with a solution to the problem she had created.

It was worth it, it really was.

At least she had convinced herself of that.

Whenever Colin was there she forgot exactly why this was a bad idea. He would smile warmly from his eyes, and that little voice in the back of her head that enjoyed telling her how wrong this was would become eerily silent.

A shoulder bumped lightly into her, a flash of red streaming from the corner of her vision.

"How was Care of Magical Creatures?" Ginny asked her. Ginny had not shown up for class for some reason or another. Surprisingly the professor hadn't even noticed.

Lyra shrugged carelessly. "I never thought I'd say this, but it's pretty boring without Professor Hagrid there. Even though half the things he showed us could permanently maim or scar us, it was still interesting."

"Well I think Grubbly-Planks is amazing," Romilda said adamantly.

"You just like her because you don't have to get dirty when Professor Grubbly-Planks teaches," Ginny said knowingly.

"Well, maybe," Romilda hedged, breaking into a smile.

"Listen up girls. I have some news. We're gonna learn how to do DADA spells," Ginny announced.

Mary shot Ginny a furtive look. "And how do you expect us to do that?"

"Two words: Harry Potter."

Silence was met Ginny's announcement.

"I'm in!" Romilda screeched.

"Wait, what do you mean Harry Potter?" Mary asked, ignoring Romilda as she practically cawed in excitement.

"I mean," Ginny whispered, leaning closer to them, "that Harry had agreed to teach us. Think about it. He's the only student anywhere near qualified to do so."

"Will we get in trouble?" Mary asked, gnawing nervously on her lip.

"Of course. It's why we have to keep it a secret."

"How does he expect that to happen?" Mary pressed.

Ginny leaned away. "Don't know. Didn't bother to ask. I was just excited about shoving something in the face of that shrill, squat little piece of toad stool for once."

"I'm in!" Romilda shouted again, jumping up and down with curls flying each way.

"What if we get expelled?" Mary worried.

"We'll just have to be careful." Ginny glanced between Mary and Lyra, ignoring the over exultant Romilda in the background. "Mione says they're calling some sort of meeting in the Hogs Head. They're going to talk more about it there. If you decide not to do it that's okay, but if you want to learn anything this year I suggest going."

Considering Lyra was more of a hands-on learner it was for her best benefit. Her grades in DADA thus far were incorrigible. She would be lucky to exit the trimester with an Acceptable. Only one thing troubled her about this:

The Dark Lord.

He would not hold back if he found out about Lyra's misdemeanor. He may possibly even hurt her family because of it. So far he had been bidding his time. Lyra had seen no outward signs of him in the newspaper. No strange deaths or unexplainable disappearance.

"Is Colin coming?"

Ginny gave her a weird look. "I think so. Colin practically idolizes Harry."

"I'll give it a try."

After all, if it didn't work out the first meeting Lyra could always decide not to go again. Besides, it was a secret. It wasn't like all of Hogwarts would know about it.

* * *

Romilda's sister was an absolute menace.

It seemed the young girl had begun to get bored with the various splendor available at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Now, she decided that her sister needed her attendance.

Emma poked Romilda in the shoulder. When her sister steadfast ignored her Emma did it again; and then again and again until nearly every second Romilda was being prodded with Emma's insistent finger.

"What?!" Romilda finally burst, slamming her book harshly on the end table.

Emma stared at her wide eyed, inching away. "I just wanted to see if you had some candy."

Romilda snarled under her breath, grabbing her book and trying to find the page she was on previously. The effort seemed to be in vain because three minutes later she was still flipping for that same page.

Emma scooted towards Mary, her intentions clear in Emma's eyes.

"I wouldn't try that if I were you." Mary didn't even bother to look up from her scroll of parchment where she was writing her essay. "You may end up losing a finger afterwards."

"Why don't you go bother your own friends?" Ginny asked with a distasteful look.

Emma shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know," she said sarcastically. "Maybe because I actually _like_ my friends?"

"Ginny, I'd like to take this moment to thank you for how well behaved your brothers are," Mary said dryly.

Lyra nearly choked. Fred and George were the polar opposite of that, and Ronald Weasley had a temper on him. For Mary to say that must mean she truly did hate Romilda's little sister.

"I warned you. I tried to warn you all!" Romilda grumbled, tightening her hold on her quill until it was in danger of breaking in half.

Emma rolled her eyes, deciding to poke Romilda once more.

"Don't you have homework!" Romilda burst.

Emma picked at a fingernail. "Yes."

"Then go do it!"

"No."

The joy of younger siblings. At this moment Lyra was very glad to be the youngest. It seemed all of them were only pest. Maybe that was why Draco was short with her at times.

"If you go away I'll give you a chocolate frog," Romilda bargained.

Now she had Emma's attention.

"Two."

"Two?" Romilda repeated incredulous.

Emma sat back in her chair, picking her teeth nonchalantly. "Yes, or no deal."

Romilda grumbled under her breath, pulling two chocolate frogs out sadly before practically chucking them at Emma. The younger girl giddily skipped away, going to the corner where her friends were and laughing before handing them all a piece of chocolate frog.

That little conniving creature. That was what she had wanted all along. It was her whole goal in coming over here.

Romilda didn't seem to care. She had finally relaxed, letting out a great sigh before calmly beginning her essay that was due first thing tomorrow.

* * *

A/N: I just want to take a moment to thank you all! All of you have been so amazing and supportive of this story and it makes me so happy! Thank you for all the reviews, follows, and favorites I have received! I really do appreciate them.

Guest Comments:

Guest- I see you're a fan of Ginny's! Don't worry, there's still a bunch of chapters yet to read. Near the end she becomes more involved too.

Allie- She's in fourth year haha so I don't think she's too young for that. Many people view the right age differently though. Thanks! :D


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter 25

* * *

Lyra pulled her yellow and red scarf tightly around her neck, shoving the ends beneath her fall coat to keep warm. Today was the meeting at the Hog's Head with Potter and his friends. She wasn't really sure how it was going to go considering her and the Golden Trio were civil at the most, usually ignoring the other even existed.

Except Ron, who sometimes liked to say nasty things to her after having a row with that adoring brother of hers.

Lyra needed this practical knowledge. She wouldn't be able to pass her class otherwise. She wasn't sure what Potter was going to teach, but it would be better than nothing. Ginny, Romilda, and Mary had already left to the Hog's Head. Lyra had procrastinated, considering who she knew was attending.

She walked out of the portrait of the Fat Lady, taking a left and going the back way to get outside. She still had about thirty minutes until she had to be there. She had some time.

A hand slithered its way into hers, interlacing with her fingers and giving it a squeeze. A grin spread on her face as the hand tugged her into a nearby empty class room.

"Colin! What are you doing?" she giggled.

He smiled warmly, laying a kiss upon their laced fingers. "Going to the Hog's Head with you. I'm heading to the meeting also."

It made sense, considering how much Colin liked Harry Potter. The-boy-who-lived probably was right behind Lyra for the most amount of pictures taken by Colin Creevey.

"This isn't the way to Hogsmeade though," she laughed.

He brought his arms around her neck, laying a light kiss upon her lips. He did it twice more before grabbing her hand and exiting the classroom.

Lyra looked around nervously, wiggling her fingers until he let go. "We can't be out in the open Colin."

He rolled his eyes with a smile but didn't press, instead letting his hip bump hers every few steps.

They finally stepped out into the light. Lyra blinked roughly, attempting to get used to the momentary harsh glare.

"How many people do you think will attend?" Colin asked doubtfully.

Lyra shrugged. It was hard to say how many people were Potter supporters at one time or another. It changed so often. Lyra was pretty sure at this moment his fan club was at an all-time low. Romilda complained about it all the time, stating how hard it was to run a group when even the members barely attended.

"Maybe ten?"

Colin nodded thoughtfully, holding the door open for her as they walked into the Hog's Head.

To her surprise more people turned up than she initially thought. There were at least twenty people attending. Apparently the name Potter held more merit than she gave it credit.

When Ronald Weasley saw her he opened his mouth to say something, but Granger nudged him before he could get it out and whispered into his ear. Whatever she told him kept him quiet, but his facial expression didn't look too happy.

Colin and Lyra separated, Lyra going over to Romilda, Ginny, and Mary while Colin sat with his brother who looked like a Shih Tzu that was excited enough that it would wet itself. The twitching that boy was doing _did not_ look healthy.

She hadn't realized it but Fred and George Weasley sat to the left of her. She swallowed nervously, hoping not to gain their attention. Both appeared to be too busy ordering butterbeers for everyone to pay her any mind.

Potter was getting more nervous by the moment. Currently he seemed to be having what appeared to be a furious conversation with Granger, his lips moving too fast for Lyra to even attempt to read. Hermione appeared to placate him, opening with a very awkward sounding hello to everyone.

"Well... erm... well, you know why you're here. Erm... well, Harry here had the idea — I mean" — Potter had thrown Hermione a sharp look — "I had the idea — that it might be good if people who wanted to study Defense Against the Dark Arts — and I mean, really study it, you know, not the rubbish that Umbridge is doing with us."

Lyra watched avidly for this catastrophic speech to unfold. But after Anthony Goldstein threw out a word of encouragement she appeared to get her bearings and began to stutter less and sound more like her know-it-all self. It was all going great until Hermione Granger decided to say the Dark Lord's name out loud. All the students in the pub reacted, including Lyra. Her breath had hitched in her throat and she stared wide eyed at the muggle born witch.

They began arguing amongst themselves about whether or not the Dark Lord was really back. It wasn't until Potter began to speak that everyone quieted.

"What makes me say You-Know-Who's back?" he asked, looking one of the particularly loud disbelievers straight in the face. "I saw him. But Dumbledore told the whole school what happened last year, and if you didn't believe him, you don't believe me, and I'm not wasting an afternoon trying to convince anyone."

Lyra couldn't help but be impressed. Potter wasn't here to gain followers, or hope for people to actually believe him. He was here to do exactly what he had promised, which was teach them Defense Against the Dark Arts. Lyra had to respect him for that, he was more mature than most people at his age.

"If you've come to hear exactly what it looks like when Voldemort murders someone I can't help you," Harry said, his temper rising. "I don't want to talk about Cedric Diggory, all right? So if that's what you're here for, you might as well clear out."

Lyra almost expected for some of the seats to immediately empty, but to her surprise none did. Granger did start up her nervous babbling during the lull in conversation, but thankfully one of the students interrupted her.

"Is it true that you can produce a Patronus?"

"Yeah," said Harry slightly defensive.

"A corporeal Patronus?"

"Er — you don't know Madam Bones, do you?" he asked.

The girl smiled.

"She's my auntie," she said. "I'm Susan Bones. She told me about your hearing. So — is it really true? You make a stag Patronus?"

"Yes," said Potter.

Terry Boot asked Potter about killing a basilisk, and then Neville Longbottom mentioned Harry and the Sorcerer's Stone. Cho Chang wrapped it up by mentioning him getting through all the tasks in the Triwizard Tornament. Put that way, Potter had done more than most witches and wizards did in their entire lifetime. His accomplishment were already a foot long and he wasn't even out of Hogwarts.

"Look," he said and everyone fell silent at once, "I... I don't want to sound like I'm trying to be modest or anything, but... I had a lot of help with all that stuff..."

"Not with the dragon, you didn't," said Michael Corner at once. "That was a seriously cool bit of flying..."

"Yeah, well —" Potter began, but was interrupted by Susan Bones.

"And nobody helped you get rid of those dementors this summer."

"No," said Potter, "no, okay, I know I did bits of it without help, but the point I'm trying to make is —"

"Are you trying to weasel out of showing us any of this stuff?" asked Zacharias Smith.

"Here's an idea," said Ron loudly, before Harry Potter could speak, "why don't you shut your mouth?"

Everyone began arguing amongst themselves again. Lyra remained resolutely quiet. There was no point in having someone lash out at her. All of her friends did the same, even Romilda who only moments before been so excited to be here. Romilda's eyes darted around nervously, watching the animated crowd.

" _Hem, hem_ ," said Ginny in such a good imitation of Professor Umbridge that several people looked around in alarm and then laughed. "Weren't we trying to decide how often we're going to meet and get Defense lessons?"

Everyone calmed down after Ginny's amusing interruption, getting down to business. Granger had everyone sign a piece of paper that basically bound them to absolute silence when it came to talking to people who could be detrimental to the club about it. Lyra had no plans to do so, so she did not mind signing it. Everyone left in two's and three's to not cause suspicion.

Ginny left with Michael Corner, her current boyfriend. Romilda and Mary went together and then after a moment Lyra and Colin followed, deciding to stop at Honeydukes for some candy before heading back. She paid for her Sour Apple Bites and Colin bought some Chocolate Wands and Pumpkin Pasties with his spare change.

"Harry was amazing," Colin whispered in awe while walking back to the castle.

"He was pretty good," Lyra agreed, nibbling on a Sour Apple Bite.

He grinned at her.

"Is that your favorite candy?"

"It is. Is that yours?"

"Anything chocolate is my favorite."

Lyra laughed, shaking her head in amusement. The snap of a camera went off and Lyra rolled her eyes. "How did you even— oh never mind! Of course you had your camera, and of course you can pull it out quicker than I can even realize."

Colin gave her a winning smile, taking a few steps forward and snapping pictures of her walking. Lyra fought the blush attempting to grow on her cheeks, sticking her hands in her pockets and looking anywhere but into the camera lens. He stopped as soon as they made it into the castle, sticking his camera into the satchel on his side and nudging her to a less frequented hall.

"Do you know how beautiful you are?" he asked earnestly, perusing all her features.

Lyra's face scrunched up. "Of course." Not that she was as beautiful as Colin made her out to be. He just liked her even bone structure… whatever that meant. It sounded like some sort of fetish to Lyra.

"So you _are_ a Malfoy," he teased.

"What, you couldn't tell by the hair?" she grinned, giving it a flip. She stopped her walking, grabbing onto Colin's hand and glancing up and down the corridor before wrapping her hands firmly on the back of Colin's neck and pulling him over for a breathless kiss. His hands wandered across her back, ending up near her waist line where they stayed. She pulled back after a few moments, taking a few steps away and leaning against the wall. He watched her with a strange look on his face, his lips a dusky red.

"You know, sometimes I don't understand you," he said finally. He took a step closer, fiddling with the necklace that laid across her neck, the Malfoy crest. It sat loudly across her collar bone, more than any words they could ever utter between them. It made them both solemn, staring at it.

She wished she could wrench it off. Then he wouldn't become distracted by it during moments like this.

They made sure to put more space between them before entering the main hallway where they parted ways with longing glances. She knew it was a bad idea to be with Colin, but it was almost as if she couldn't help it.

She was idiotic for doing this, it could never work out. But then when Colin appeared in front of her and held her and told her all these sweet nothings it always made everything worth it. At least at the moment.

She knew she should break it off before things got too deep, but it was almost like she was yearning for that moment. Lyra had never felt this way before, she thought she never would. She just wanted to prolong this feeling for as long as she could.

Lyra didn't think she loved Colin yet, but she could admit she was besotted by him. Everything about him she liked, even the annoying little pictures he took of her all the time. She could pretend for now, act as if they weren't on separate sides of the war and that she wasn't betrothed to someone. Purebloods were good at feigning truths, they did it all the time. It was practically protocol. Act as if she hadn't heard that horrible rumor about Millicent Bulstrode and that she wasn't a half-blood, put on a show about not knowing the Dark Lord was back in flesh and blood.

Come to think of it, many people were good at pretending.

"Lyra?" Ginny's hesitant voice filtered through her senses. She dragged her eyes to the desk near Ginny's bed where the red headed girl had taken up residence. "Are you okay?"

Lyra's nose wrinkled in confusion. "Yes?"

"It's just that… you've been… _different_ lately," she stumbled out, pinning Lyra down with her eyes when she had emphasized.

Lyra felt her face burn. She quickly sat down on her bed to flip open her Divination book. Her dream journal was due tomorrow and she still hadn't started it yet. It was an easy assignment for the most part. Most of the stuff she usually made up.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

Ginny glanced over to where Romilda and Mary had congregated together to finish their Transfiguation homework. Apparently something in class had confused Romilda so she had gone to Mary. Not that it helped Romilda much, considering how much Mary liked to go into minute details that people would never need to know. Romilda looked hopelessly at her interim student-teacher, staring at Mary with wide eyes and a blank look that clearly said although she was paying attention, none of the words were permeating her brain. It didn't appear to hinder Mary. She continued on as usual.

Ginny sat down next to Lyra, leaning closer to whisper in her ear. "It's just— I know something is going on with you and Colin, although I'm not sure what. You guys send each other these… _looks_ , all day. It's obvious that something is going on. I care about you Lyra, I just want you to be careful." Ginny placed a comforting hand on Lyra's shoulder, giving it a squeeze.

Lyra remained staring at the wall, a sick feeling in her stomach. If Ginny could see it then that meant someone else could. Flint had allies in Hogwarts. He always knew strange little tidbits Lyra had been doing at school that he should not be aware of. Just the other day he mentioned off-hand in a letter about her studying for Professor Binn's class in the library on Saturday. She had never told him that, but somehow he knew.

Had she really been that obvious about Colin?

She thought they had been discreet.

"Not that I think that it's a bad thing," Ginny hurried out. "It's just, your parents. They would never accept Colin."

No, they wouldn't. They would rip her off the family tree before sullying the proud Malfoy line.

"We're not up to anything," Lyra said finally, her voice shaking.

Ginny gave her a pitying look. "Lyra, you don't have to lie to me."

"Ginny," Lyra repeated. "Colin and I are just friends, like we've always been."

Ginny went to argue, but stopped. She probably saw what Lyra was thinking, because their eyes stayed locked for a very long time.

Admitting that Lyra was dating Colin would make everything real.

It would validate it, make the truth undeniable and able to be proven. Lyra couldn't voice this. She never could. It would remain where it was meant to be: inside her with her deepest wants and desires; with the thoughts that could never see the light of day, nor be mentally or verbally acknowledged.

They were dangerous.

Her father had warned her about verbalizing things that could get her hurt. She wouldn't ignore his words, not when they made so much sense and spoke so many volumes of truths.

"We're just friends."

Ginny stared at her a moment longer before nodding, heading over to her desk where she continued her homework. Maybe this time Ginny believed her. Maybe Ginny thought Colin and Lyra were only friends just like Lyra had said.

But Lyra knew Ginny didn't believe any of that. It was just another truth Lyra could not acknowledge.

* * *

A/N: Some of the sentences from the DA meeting were taken directly from the book.

Guest Comments:

Allie- I'm glad you liked how it was written! I kept messing with it but ended up leaving it as it was when I first wrote it. And shhhh! Marcus can't find out! :P


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter 26

* * *

Somehow Professor Umbridge found out about their little meeting in the Hog's Head, because not even a day later the nasty old woman came up with Educational Decree Number Twenty-Four: _no student organization, society, team, group, or club may exist without the knowledge and approval of the High Inquisitor._

What a smarmy load of dung.

It made Lyra questioned how much she really wanted to be in this club. She didn't want to be expelled because of it. Lyra could see nothing good about that. The Dark Lord made regular visits to Malfoy Manor from what she understood. Having him find out her thoughts on blood purity and, worst of all, Colin, would never be good.

"Lyra, I know you're worried but this will pay off!" Mary assured her brightly. "We're learning. No one can fault you for that."

Ginny nodded along. This meeting was called last minute and they couldn't find Romilda for it. Mary was almost certain she was hosting a Harry Potter Fan Club meeting somewhere in the deep crevices of Hogwarts. She just wasn't sure of its location.

"You're not nervous at all?" Lyra asked Mary incredulously. "You could get expelled."

Mary smiled grimly. "There's always Salem."

Even Ginny paused to give Mary a look of shock.

"Are you serious? You would leave England?" Ginny inquired with a dubious look.

"For this? Yes. Professor Umbridge is holding me back, she's holding all of us back. I cannot stand for it," Mary pressed firmly. "I can't fail because of her."

It was times like this Lyra remembered that Mary's worst fear was failing, back in first year when that boggart had shown that Mary what terrified her the most. It was strange to think of Mary leaving Hogwarts Witchcraft and Wizardry, one of the world's best magical schools, to go to another less prestigious one. At least, Hogwarts used to be the best. She wasn't certain of that title anymore, what with their DADA teachers always disappearing and now Professor Umbridge taking that spot.

Lyra really wished the vile woman would get trampled by a hippogriff.

"Harry said to pace in front of this wall. A door should appear," Ginny announced, taking a step back.

Mary eyed the wall cynically, but began to pace. Not more than three short turns later an ornate door appeared. "I'll give Potter one thing. He certainly has flair," Mary announced, opening the door.

Inside was everything a person could ever need to host Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons. There were dummies lined up, and various objects of different worth. One was a Foe-Glass that hung on the wall, its glass cracked and splintering. There was even a place to congregate together, complete with a thoroughly stacked bookcase near a roaring fire. When Lyra, Mary, and Ginny walked in, Hermione Granger was lounging on a seat cushion. In her hand sat a hard cover book with the words ' _Jinxes for the Jinxed_ ' on the front. She stayed thoroughly enthralled by the book until she seemed to catch on that everyone had arrived.

None of the Golden Trio were good at public speaking, because just like last time they stuttered through their introduction. Ronald Weasley was more preoccupied by giving Lyra the stink eye to say much of anything.

"Can we be the Anti-Umbridge League?" said Angelina Johnson hopefully.

"Or the Ministry of Magic Are Morons Group?" suggested Fred Weasley.

"The Defense Association?" said Cho Chang. "The D.A. for short, so nobody knows what we're talking about?"

"Yeah, the D.A.'s good," said Ginny. "Only let's make it stand for Dumbledore's Army because that's the Ministry's worst fear, isn't it?"

Everyone snickered, agreeing with her red headed friend. Lyra had noticed Ginny was quite popular recently. Romilda, Lyra, and Mary generally stuck with each other, but Ginny was very outgoing. She was friends with just about everyone.

Potter had everyone start off with the _Expelliarmus_ spell _._ It was a simple enough spell, something even first years could do, but Potter was adamant that it was a very important spell that everyone could need.

Apparently Lyra hadn't even been doing that correctly.

When he had passed by Lyra, who had partnered up with Romilda, he stopped her mid-spell and told her she was adding an extra twitch to it. Lyra begrudgingly listened, and to her surprise he was correct. The next time she used the curse it was stronger than she had ever seen it, almost slamming poor Romilda into a wall. Romilda wasn't so giggly afterwards, focusing instead on getting Lyra back.

The next week Granger had these wonderfully, innovative galleons to hand out. When one looked at it, the coin seemed to be a normal galleon. But it happened to vibrate and words would appear across it notifying them whenever a meeting in the future would take place. Terry Boot had pointed out the spell Granger had used was a N.E.W.T. level charm, which only made Lyra sigh. Draco had no chance of winning against Hermione Granger when it came to intellectual ability. If Hermione wasn't the witch of their age, then their generation was bound to be the best for years to come because Granger's level of magic was ridiculous. She could literally do anything she wanted with that type of mind.

Lyra couldn't help but feel a bit surly about it. Perhaps if Lyra was that smart she wouldn't be expected to become a housewife. Draco was their future, after all. He would be continuing on the Malfoy name the next generation, just as Lyra would raise the next Flint generation.

Thoughts of Colin came uninhibited to her mind. She wasn't sure what this tryst would lead to. They had never even agreed to be in a relationship. He had never asked her, and Lyra would never bring it up. Whatever they were now Lyra was happy with. He made her feel real, alive. Like she was important and cared about. Sure, she knew her parents loved her, but it was nice to see someone actually acknowledge their feelings and not box them up and place them neatly in a compartment to never be opened out of fear of appearing weak.

Being with Colin was being in a whole different world.

Sometimes she wished she hadn't been a Malfoy, then he would have never been the forbidden fruit she was not meant to have.

* * *

Luna had made the most amazing hat Lyra had ever seen.

Sure, it was a bit obnoxious and a little over the top, but what else was to be expected of Luna Lovegood? She had no boundaries to speak of, and was very frank in nature.

"How long did it take to make that?" Lyra asked, staring at the ostentatious hat that shimmered and snarled with the point of Luna's wand.

"I made it last night. It was a little tricky to get it to roar, but I managed it."

Honestly the thing could barely be considered a hat. It was larger than Luna's head, and at least three times bigger. It was a very innovative piece of magic.

If only others thought the same way Lyra did.

As it was the majority of the Quidditch fans in the bleachers were snickering with pointed fingers. At least the ones that weren't too enamored with watching the Quidditch game at hand.

Lyra was more distracted by the Slytherins. They were all wearing little crowns on their robes that had 'WEASLEY is our King' on them. In addition to that, whenever one of the Slytherin players scored they would break into a rendition of a song, original lyrics by them.

Lyra didn't know whether to laugh or feel indignant about this.

Another goal was made against Gryffindor. On cue, all the Slytherins began to sing 'Weasley Is Our King." Lyra finally gave up, snickering into the corner of her sleeve before turning it into a cough after noticing Ginny's glare.

The Gryffindor team managed to win, but only because of the snitch. Ron Weasley hadn't managed to block even one of the balls. She could see from here that her brother had turned white from anger. He opened his mouth to shout something at Potter. It wasn't a surprising occurrence, especially since her brother was sure to be in a bad mood after losing the game.

When Potter had to hold Ronald Weasley back from taking a swing at her brother, she began to grow nervous.

"What are they saying?" she asked Romilda, attempting to shove through the crowd.

"I don't know," Romilda hurried out. "Something about Malfoy making the lyrics to that song."

No wonder she found it funny. Her brother had made them.

"I need to get down there," Lyra mumbled.

"You know, you can't always protect your brother. I know for a fact I hate it when my brothers try to do that to me," Ginny commented.

"Well… you're circumstances are different from his. Draco is practically useless in a fight, at least against Potter and Granger," Lyra said, attempting to excuse her behavior.

Inevitably, a fight broke out. She was still too far to do anything, but the Slytherin team had sort of joined in to keep back Fred and George Weasley from pummeling her brother.

"Draco you're such an idiot," she reprimanded beneath her breath when she got to him. "Why can't you ever keep your mouth shut?"

"Because Potter is a ponce!" he cried out, sending out insults even as he laid prone on the debris covered ground. Potter and Weasley had managed to get in quite a few punches before Madame Hooch had stopped them.

"Lyra," Ginny said with warning, catching the look on her face. "Your brother made his decision. You can't go flying off the rail every time your brother gets hurt."

If Lyra had been anything but a Malfoy she would have stomped her foot like an indignant child.

"They're not going to get away with beating my brother!" Lyra snarled.

"Oi!" Graham Montague interrupted a bit nervously. "We tried to stop them. They-"

"Oh, shut up!" she said irritably, turning away from the Slytherin Quidditch captain in disgust. Montague hadn't been trying to help Draco, he just wanted to beat something up because that was the type of brute he was. Only Crabbe and Goyle had Draco's back when it came down to it, and that was only if they had the courage to do so. Apparently going against three Weasleys and a livid Potter was a little too much for the bumbling idiots to handle.

"Ms. Malfoy," Madame Hooch said with warning in her voice. "Calm down. The Heads of each house will right everything. There's no need for this."

Two of the Slytherin team had lifted her brother up and begun dragging him back to the castle.

"Hey! You two idiots! The levitating spell! Use the levitating spell! What the bloody hell have you two been learning all these years!" she screeched at them, throwing her hands in the air in exasperation. They hurried to do as she bid. The first one botched it up, but the second one managed to get the spell right. She pulled at her waist length hair in frustration, eyeing them shrewdly for any more mistakes.

"Five points from Gryffindor!" Madame Hooch said in a shrill voice. "We do not use that type of language here!"

"Yeah, well normally I don't," she said off hand, watching her brother's limp form disappear into the entrance of the Great Hall.

Madame Hooch tutted in distaste, but managed to distract herself with the lingering Gryffindor and Slytherin team that were still eyeing each other distrustfully.

"You're truly scary when you're angry," Romilda whispered. "I just stand out of the way until you calm down."

She did feel better. She knew she could count on Professor McGonagall to dish out a good punishment, and berate them too. The only other professor she would have preferred to do it would have been Snape, but only because of his known hatred towards Gryffindors. Particularly ones with the surname Potter.

She only managed to calm down after Colin had pulled her to the side out of view, kissing her on the apples of her cheeks before lightly peppering her lips.

"It's over, okay? Just forget about it."

"But how can I forget about it?" she asked exasperated, tugging at his shirt collar. "It's my brother."

"Harry and the twins got kicked off the Quidditch team, Lyra. I don't think they can get a much worse punishment."

Lyra's eyes locked with his. "Really? But McGonagall cares about that stupid end-of-the-year trophy so much."

"It wasn't Professor McGonagall, it was Umbridge."

"How did she- never mind." She probably made another educational decree. It seemed that was the woman's only purpose in life.

* * *

A/N: When they're discussing names for the club some of the sentences are taken from the book. I somehow already started messing with my outline again. When I wrote what is left of the chapter some events were happening too quickly so I'm moving things around. Currently the story will still be 70 chapters long. If it does increase again I'll note it.

Guest Comments:

Allie- Which part? o.o Haha that shirt would be very fitting.

Leslie- Thank you so much! The whole theme of this story is really family and love, so that's going to be interlaced throughout the entire story. She's definitely changed a lot since first year. She didn't even want muggleborn's touching her stuff and now she's best friends with one.


	27. Chapter 27

Chapter 27

* * *

The quidditch try-outs to replace Potter and the two Weasley twins were held without futher mishap. Lyra wondered why the youngest male Weasley never got kicked off the team, but then realized Umbridge was just nasty like that. Everyone knew Ronald was rubbish at playing keeper. She probably kept him there to spite everyone.

Lyra shouldn't have been too surprised when Ginny announced she was going to try out as seeker. All of Ginny's brothers had been on the team, excluding Percy and Bill. It was practically in Ginny's blood. So when Ginny came back from try-outs with her emotions all amuck, screeching that she had made the squad that result should have only been natural.

Lyra wasn't sure how good Ginny was compared to Potter, but the team claimed she could hold her own. Unlike another certain red head that currently held an undeserved spot on the Gryffindor Quidditch Team.

She ran her fingers down the spine of a book, searching for any title that may help her in her search of the last name 'Black.' Sadly, most of the Hogwarts library did not cover ancient pureblood families. Madame Pince only became annoyed with her when she asked for help, irately commenting that she was there to help with school studies not leisure activities.

"What are you looking for?" a familiar voice asked. She smiled, turning towards him.

"A book on pureblood families. I'm trying to find more information about my family on my mother's side."

Colin grinned, leaning back to get a better look himself. "Does Hogwarts even keep books like that?"

Lyra shrugged, taking a step closer to him and squinting at the book titles on the very top shelf. "I'm not sure, but I thought I would try."

Colin's face wrinkled in thought, before turning to her wide eyed. "I know! The Pure-Blood Directory! Hogwarts surely has a copy of that!"

"Keep your voice down, boy!" Madame Pince hissed, simultaneously taking on the features of a vulture and an ireful cat in her wrath. Quite a feat if you asked Lyra. It wasn't as if the librarian was being quiet herself, but never mind that.

Colin's shoulders raised, leveling just below his ear. It looked as if he were waiting for a good flick on the forehead from Madame Pince. After a few moments he relaxed, but would warily glance over to her desk every now and then.

"Where do you think that book is?" Lyra whispered.

Colin stared at her helplessly, clearly not risking the vicious looking librarian's wrath.

All at once Lyra felt like a right twat. She wasn't a witch for nothing.

"Accio Hogwarts' copy of The Pure-Blood Directory." She only hoped someone wasn't loaning it out at the moment.

It came barreling towards her, nearly slamming her in the stomach. Luckily, she had braced herself for it because it didn't hurt too much when she caught it. They checked the book out together at the desk, Madame Pince giving Lyra a suspicious look as she did, muttering about ungrateful little brats ruining her pristine books.

Colin casually linked his pinky with hers, pulling her lightly towards the Gryffindor tower once they exited the library. They held together only for a few seconds before dropping their hands back to their sides.

She opened the book as they walked, slowing down to search for the name Black.

"You're going to bump into someone staring down like that, come on," Colin laughed, tugging her through the portrait. Only a few people were in the common room. She knew Ginny was training on the quidditch field and Mary was studying for Astronomy. Romilda tended to disappear often, usually to her Harry Potter fan meets or to go on some date. Her boyfriends never lasted very long. Lyra was almost certain Romilda had never dated anyone for longer than two months. At this rate she was going to run out of candidates for her next boy toy.

"Come upstairs with me," Colin whispered, pulling her towards the boy's tower. She glanced around nervously, paranoid that someone was watching. "Oh, come on! No one is going to bother you."

She nibbled her lip worriedly, allowing herself to be dragged by Colin upstairs to his dorm room. "What about your roommate?" she asked once they were situated. They both laid down on his bed, Lyra resting her head on his shoulder while he ran his fingers leisurely through her hair.

"Don't worry about him. He knows."

Lyra jumped, staring at Colin at horror. He propped himself up with an elbow, watching her confused. "What? You don't expect him to say anything do you?" When Lyra remained silent, he continued, "He's my best mate. He won't tell anyone about us, not when I told him to keep quiet about it."

Lyra hesitantly lowered herself back to where she was. "I just worry. The less people that know, the better."

"Do your friends know?" he asked after a moment.

"Ginny suspects. I don't know about Mary, and Romilda is gloriously clueless."

He snorted. "Isn't that the norm with her?"

She smiled, glancing up at him in amusement but refusing to answer. She had to stay loyal to her friends, after all. It was what friends were for, that among other things.

"I found it," she whispered, staring down at the over-embellished House of Black logo that showed a skull adorning the crest, a gauntlet holding a sword with a red background in the middle, and then three crows in a white back drop at the bottom. The family motto, 'Toujours pur,' or 'always pure,' sat beneath it. She wasn't sure what her past family member was thinking when he made the crest. There was no explanation on the symbols in the book.

"There!" Colin said, pointing to the bottom of the page. "There's Regulus Black! The brother of Sirius Black!"

Near that should be her mother with her sisters, fore they were cousins. Sure enough, she spotted 'Narcissa and Bellatrix to the right of his name. She squinted at the name in the middle, attempting to make it out. Someone had scratched it out with black ink to her frustration. "Ann… Ann-something. It ends with an 'A' too. I can't make it out." She slammed the book closed, frustrated and defeated. "Maybe I'm not meant to know her name." She stared at the ceiling listlessly.

Colin took the book from her, flipping back to the page. "I can't make it out either," he said finally. "Some Slytherin probably etched it out," he said nastily. "See, all the blood traitors are colored out. Sirius Black is gone, and next to that botched one it says 'muggle lover' and 'filth,' he grumbled.

Lyra took a calming breath in, gnawing on the inside of her cheek. It didn't matter anymore. What was she supposed to do if she did learn her estranged aunt's name? Re-welcome her into the family? No, that would only serve to make Lyra a blood traitor herself.

Not that she wasn't already.

It was why this had to remain a secret. Perhaps after spending some time mulling over a solution, she could find an agreeable outcome.

"But," Colin said, interrupting her thoughts. "It does say she has a child."

Lyra shot up in the bed, yanking the book out of Colin's grasp. There it was, right under her unnamed aunt. That was scratched out too, but at least that meant she was more likely to have lived. Her brows furrowed as she brought the book closer. "1973 to present," she read out loud, irrepressible joy filling her. "Colin! My cousin is alive! I don't know about my aunt, but my cousin is!"

She had more family. Living family, and not one's stuck in Azkaban. She felt such giddiness that it was inherently spreading to Colin, whose teeth gleaned at her. She dropped the book, wrapping her arms around Colin and breathing him in. "She's twelve years older than me. That means she already graduated, if she did indeed go to Hogwarts."

Colin ran a hand through her hair, caressing her scalp. Lyra closed her eyes, relaxing against him.

"Perhaps you'll find out their names one day."

She grinned at him, snuggling further into his shoulder. She really hoped she would.

* * *

The next morning when she woke up Ginny was gone.

There was no hint, not even a letter. Romilda was quick to point out Potter and his friends had also disappeared. It worried Lyra. If all of them had been excused from the last day of classes it had to be important. That whole day Lyra could not concentrate, not even when they got their grades back in Herbology and she and Luna got an 'O' on their Venomous Tentacula project. That plant had been a blight on her free time the entire trimester. At least they had ended up with good marks, most of it because of Luna. It was certainly one of the few smatterings of 'O's' she had received in that class.

Professor McGonagall had decided everyone could do with some extra homework during break and had generously endowed them with a few essays to do over Yule.

She saw her brother snickering amongst his friends in the hall. After a moment she noticed poor Neville Longbottom stumbling over his bag which had ripped open to reveal all his books and quills, a jar of ink bursting in the mayhem and leaking all over his notes.

"Draco," she murmured, pushing her way through the crowd surrounding him and tugging at his sleeve. He went to send a nasty glare at the hand pulling at his robes, but was too taken aback to do more than stare at her. "Did mother and father say… _anything_ , to you about me coming home for Christmas?" She gave him a knowing look.

He straightened, dusting invisible lint off the collar of his shirt. "No, why would they?"

She couldn't help the incredulous look that overcame her features. He glanced around them, as if suddenly just noticing their audience, before gesturing for her to follow him.

"I never heard anything like that. I was under the impression you would be coming home as always."

He seemed to ignore the fact that she was gone all summer, not even allowed to come and visit. Her parents hadn't bothered to come see her at the Flint estate either. She was sure they had their reasons, but that didn't make her stop wondering.

"I wasn't sure. I thought maybe I was meant to remain here, or go to the Flint's home."

His brows rose.

"Why?"

She stared at him, taken aback.

"Because they told me to stay at the Flint residence all summer. Why would I suddenly be allowed to come home now?"

"I thought you wanted to stay during break at the Flints. That was what mother told me."

They both stared at each other in equal amounts of confusion. One waiting for the other to add the missing piece neither appeared to hold.

Mother and father were keeping secrets, and she wasn't sure why. The only reason she could come up with is extra protection. Her parents may have told the Dark Lord this so that her disappearance was less alarming. He certainly couldn't find fault with a young pureblood woman with traditional values attempting to learn more about her betrothed.

"Do you think they meant to tell me in a letter but forgot?" she asked nervously.

Draco glanced behind him, watching as his friends continued to terrorize Neville who at this point was a blushing, stuttering mess. "I'm sure you're meant to come home. Just go on the train, don't worry about it." He placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, squeezing before going back to torturing her fellow Gryffindor.

"Hey Draco?"

He turned to look at her.

"Stop teasing Longbottom, would you? I think he's had enough."

He grumbled under his breath but did stop his friends, gesturing for them to follow him to the dungeons where the Slytherin common room was. After watching them leave she walked over to Longbottom, helping the ruddy-faced, clumsy boy bag all of his things.

"Th-th-thank you," he stuttered out, hurrying to race down the halls and out of sight.

Lyra watched him go, wondering if perhaps she should have stepped in sooner. They hadn't been hurting him with their pranks.

But it hadn't been very nice either.

* * *

"Have any of you heard anything about Ginny's absence yet?" Lyra asked, munching on a Chocolate Frog. She twisted the pentagon-shaped card in her hand, turning it around so that she could see Chauncey Oldridge, the first victim to ever die of Dragon Pox. What a pointless feat to get on a Chocolate Frog card for.

"I haven't heard anything," Romilda announced, folding a light pink shirt neatly in her trunk. Romilda had run out of time at Hogwarts to put her things away nicely and had thrown them all in at once. Now she was taking the time folding them on the train because she knew her mother would never let her hear the end of it if she saw the mess in Romilda's trunk. It was currently spread all across the cabin, at least it would be until Romilda had the time to tame it all.

Mary peered up from her book, watching Lyra with a measured gaze before giving an aimless shrug and going back to her reading. Lyra squinted at Mary, knowing her friend was withholding something for some reason or another. But Mary was stubborn, and would only become offended with Lyra's prying.

Lyra brought her eyes to the window, staring out at the glowing fields of barley they were passing. "I'm only worried for her. I hope nothing awful has happened." Last time she disappeared it was because Ginny had almost died from being possessed by the Dark Lord.

Lyra felt Mary's measuring gaze on her again, but the brown haired girl remained silent.

* * *

A/N: I just finished the last chapter of this story! I can't believe it! It took me about seven months to write it all out, and I never expected it to be so long! I though it would be thirty-something, but it ended up being seventy! I've got a lot of editing ahead of me haha. I almost ended it on chapter sixty-nine but it hadn't felt complete to me. Hopefully you all like the ending!

Guest Comments:

Guest- You just made the first ship names! Haha Lolin sounds so cute.

Allie- I'm surprised you know Lyra well enough to know that! Normally, she wouldn't say that but in her extreme irritation she would.


	28. Chapter 28

Chapter 28

* * *

It felt strange.

To continue on as if the summer months had never happened, as if Lyra had never disappeared and the Dark Lord was not looming in the far corners of their shambling lives. But that's what Lyra's family did. They never spoke of the Dark Lord, only Draco did; and that was to gloat of the new world Draco was sure his Lord would bring them into. But Draco didn't think that far ahead, she wasn't sure he realized what it would take for that to happen. How many sacrifices there would be, on both sides. All the blood, pain, and agony a war would entail. The mind games and deceit and covert words exchanged between people who were once friends, maybe even lovers.

How many would die.

He didn't think about that, and her parents didn't bring it up. They let Draco live in his fantasy world where everything would switch over seamlessly and the muggleborns would disappear without a fight.

He was so very naïve. More than she'd ever been.

She dreaded this, the time where she was left only to her thoughts. She had finished her essays all too quickly and then was stuck within the recesses of her mind. To think over the poor decisions she had made, what the consequences of them could be.

Lyra was so foolish deciding to be with Colin. It was supposed to be her secret desire, what would never come to light.

But it did, and now she had to deal with it.

When they went back to school she would end it. She had to, there was no other viable choice. To continue with this would only end with harsh consequences. She wasn't only endangering herself, but her family too. Colin would be killed, or at the least punished, if not by the Dark Lord then by Marcus. If anything, she had realized Marcus had a possessive streak when it came to her. She could recall that look on his face when he asked about the rumors of her kissing Polikoff. He was a different person then, filled with hatred and contempt. Those eyes had slithered their way across her, perusing her as if his unanswered question would showcase itself as an obvious fault on her body.

She always told her friends that Flint would never hurt her, that she was confident he wouldn't. But with that look, it made her wonder. It would never be as simple as running away from a violent husband. Marcus Flint would have power, and the Dark Lord would not allow a pureblood to run off like some blood traitor. At least he would if Marcus joined them. Thankfully he hadn't as of yet. If he did she would truly be stuck, and that frightened her even more than her father's scorn. That fear was a physical illness in her body, sitting like lead pooled at the bottom of her stomach, heavy and taxing. It sometimes made it hard to breath.

She had to call it off with Colin. She couldn't afford to be some stupid, ignorant girl stuck in some fairy tale ending where she got everything she wanted. Maybe someone else's life was like that, but not hers. Even as a child she'd had responsibility, things she had never wanted to do but was her duty.

It was the life of a Malfoy.

"Flint is going to be joining us for dinner tonight darling." Her mother fixed a stray strand of hair behind Lyra's head knowingly. "You must mind your appearance, my sweet. Just because you're home does not mean you can relax."

"Of course mother," Lyra agreed un-phased. She'd been hearing this for as long as she could remember.

"I'll see you in an hours' time," she murmured, eyeing Lyra critically. Lyra appeared to have pass her mother's test, because she turned her back without another word.

Lyra walked casually down the hallway, the click of her low heals sounding off the walls loudly. She stopped in front of a painting of Armand Malfoy, the first official recording of a Malfoy. The cruel turn of his eyes, the habitual smirk that was present on just about every Malfoy after him. They could trace their French roots to him. He had created Malfoy Manor, relocating his family to Wiltshire, Great Britain. Her ancestor had kept no records of what the Malfoy family had done before when they lived in France. His wife had took it upon herself to begin the family tree, a noble cause.

The next picture was of his son, who looked just as cruel and blonde haired as his father. Now that she thought about it, all Malfoys seemed to be painted with equal amounts of distain. Taught from father to son, apparently skipping the daughters because Lyra certainly didn't feel that way. Not that she couldn't act the part of a spoiled, over-privileged pureblood brat. She did it very well.

She opened the doors to the main dining room where they held their family dinners. The table was overly large, made to sit up to ten people. Father always sat at the end, at the seat of power. Mother to the left and Draco to the right. When Lyra was younger she used to make a game of it, changing her seat at every meal. Sometimes she would sit next to her mother, other times her brother. Every now and then she would sit at the other end of the table alone, able to watch her father clearly from her spot as she ate. Now, she almost always sat next to Draco. If she was irritated with her father she would sit at the end where she could make her disdain clear and glare from her vantage point. But that was a rare occurrence.

She sat down in the ornate, redwood chair, clutching the arms as she scooted closer to the table. Mother and father were already there. The house elves had begun to bring out the food, loud pops filling the air each time they brought another entre.

Marcus appeared a moment later, sitting across from her; next to her mother. She nodded at him in greeting and he whispered a hello, inclining his head respectfully to her father.

Lyra stared at him. She hadn't seen him for months now. She had been avoiding him all trimester, since she had begun her thing with Colin. She couldn't bring herself to face Marcus, feeling too guilty and scandalized about the kisses she had eagerly shared with Colin.

Her father glanced towards the door in wordless irritation, turning to Marcus. "I trust the family business is doing well?"

Marcus stopped arranging his silverware to his personal taste to glance up at her father. "Of course Mr. Malfoy. Business is booming as always. There's always profits to be made in a betting ring."

Her father nodded slightly. "An ingenious idea your great-grandfather had."

It was then the doors clacked open to reveal their final participant. Her father did not seem too impressed with him at the moment.

"How nice of you to join us," father commented with a quirked brow.

Draco flushed a slight pink, pulling at his collar before sitting down with them. "I apologize. It won't happen again."

"See that it doesn't," their father answered casually, finally beginning their meal.

She wanted to stare at Marcus Flint and avoid his gaze all at once. There were such warring feelings inside her. She decided on glancing at him beneath lowered eyes as she ate, immediately shifting her gaze to her food if he so much as looked in her direction.

"Draco is working on his own betrothal pact, aren't you?" Her father gave Draco a condescending look.

Draco grimaced slightly, appearing displeased by the sudden change in subject. "Father," he whispered pleadingly. Whether to convince their father to not bring up this subject or to agree with Draco's wishes, Lyra wasn't sure. All Lyra knew was that she was very interested in this subject.

"Go on, tell them who you wish to enter into a pact with." Lucius sat back in his chair relaxed, challenging his son with his eyes. Narcissa Malfoy patted her lips, appearing to have lost her appetite.

Draco sighed, mumbling a few syllables under his breath that Lyra couldn't make out.

"Oh, Draco. You're not shy, are you? You were very adamant about it the other day."

"I said," he grumbled in irritation. "Pansy Parkinson."

No wonder her mother had lost her wish to continue eating.

"You can't be serious," Lyra burst, staring at Draco with unveiled disgust.

"Oh, shut up! Stick with your bleeding marriage with Flint."

"Draco," Lyra said seriously, leaning closer to him. "She looks very much like a pug. I'm almost certain if she was an animagus she would be some type of dog."

Marcus was very gallantly attempting not to laugh from his side of the table.

"She does not!" he shouted, standing up from the table. "She just has a nose slightly more… uh… upturned, than others."

Their father snorted, rolling his eyes with derision and glaring at a nearby wall in disgust.

"She's a good choice father!" he argued.

Their father leveled his full gaze at Draco, forcing him to sit back down in the chair with only his eyes. "She is not a good choice," he bit out. "Even if her face was more pleasing, she is not what the Malfoys are looking for when it comes to making our next generation. Look at your mother, a polar opposite of Ms. Parkinson. Do you remember your grandmother at all? She was all of a lady till the day she died. She was proper, demure, witty. Everything your mother is. Parkinson is none of that. She isn't even beautiful. Honestly Draco, I have no clue what you see in her."

Basing on the horrid red shade her brother's face had taken on, she was almost certain it was their sordid nightly activities that kept him wishing to marry her. Lyra hadn't even realized he was doing that, but then again it wasn't proper to talk to each other about that sort of thing.

Marcus finally gave up, breaking out in deafening laughter. Mother sat patting her hair into place with a scandalized look, as a proper lady should be. Even their father let a smirk grace his face.

"It's not funny," her brother muttered. "I love her father. I want to marry her."

"And what have I told you about love Draco," father said tiredly.

"I know what you said," he said loudly. "But I just, I really want to be with her."

"It seems like you already are."

Lyra's mouth gaped open, shocked that her father would even say such a thing in front of her. Marcus, who had finally gotten his laughter back to normal levels, broke out in it once again.

"I think I should be excused," their mother said, stiffly standing from the table. "I do not wish to hear of such filth. Especially in regards to my son." She turned her back on them, taking a deep breath in as if to gather herself before walking out of the room, the tap of her expensive heels following her out.

Their father leaned towards Draco. "I'm only going to say this once. I don't care what you do with her in your free time. Bed her. Kiss her. Whatever you enjoy. But once it is time for marriage I expect you to drop her, and do it without dishonoring her, please. We've been business partners with the Parkinsons since the very beginning. We can't afford to let that relationship turn sour because you decided to pump your-" He broke off, glancing at Lyra whose fork had clattered noisily from her hand and was staring wide eyed at him. He cleared his throat, straightening his back. "Because you decided to have _relations_ with their only daughter."

"I think I should be excused father!" Lyra begged, wanting to get away from whatever gross details her father was about to discuss with Draco.

"I'll accompany you," Marcus said immediately, walking over to her and helping her out of her seat. Draco was still pouting at the table when they left together, their father continuing to have words with him.

"That was a very unexpected, but amusing, dinner. Never thought I'd see the day your father would say something like that," Marcus grinned.

She smiled hesitantly, blinking in confusion at his beaming face. There was something different about it, now that she was closer and not afraid to look at him.

Lyra let out a gasp.

"Your teeth," she whispered, staring at them in shock.

They were even; and perfectly white.

Her head lulled back in shock, staring blatantly at his mouth. He gave her another grin, flashing his pearly whites at her.

"You said it was one of the things you couldn't stand about me. I decided to change it."

Lyra flinched, feeling a bit guilty for the comment. "I didn't word it that way," she mumbled, taking his arm once again as they continued to walk in the garden.

"It doesn't matter what way you worded it," Marcus brushed of uncaring. "All that matters is I got the message." He gave her a wink.

She smiled hesitantly. "I like it. It makes you look…" she paused, taking his face in. "More handsome." Marcus would never be traditionally good looking, but he could be brutishly handsome? She wasn't sure of the word for it, but he did look better. "Is there anything you want to change about me?"

It wouldn't be fair for him to change something like that just for her and for her not to at least ask.

He gave her a soft smile, running a hand behind her ear to get all the rebelling strands on end. "You're perfect the way you are." But he seemed to hesitate. "Well, it would be nice if you were more open with me. Once day I am to be your husband, the father of your children. I want to know you. I want to understand you, if only you'd give me a chance."

Lyra bit down hard on her cheek. Opening up like that made her nervous. It was vulnerability, something Lyra didn't particularly enjoy feeling.

"I can try," she said softly, not willing to commit to an answer. His answering grin was more than enough.

Her lungs ceased to work as he lowered his face closer to hers. She only exhaled when his lips touched her forehead, a sigh of relief.

What was she doing?

She was playing with fire, is what. Neither Colin nor Marcus deserved this. Marcus was not a bad guy, despite her misgivings; and Colin merited so much more than stolen kisses in darkened hallways. Marcus trusted her, she couldn't shatter that. Not when she knew he would never trust her again. Colin thought she could up and break the betrothal, as if it were that simple. As if there were no repercussions for such a thing.

But nothing was simple in her life.

* * *

Guest Comments:

Allie- If it's just advice on how to continue writing I can give that haha. If you get stuck someplace then start editing your story. I do that a lot and then I either figure out how to continue or by the time I'm done editing the answer is obvious. But don't just completely leave it. You'll forget your tone, what you were going for, little notes in your head that you have that don't really make sense written down but are vital, and things like that. I've done that with my GoT fanfic and basically screwed myself over. My tone and the way she thinks is gone, and now whenever I write it sounds too proper or unlike her.

Making an outline is really important too. An outline would give you an idea of what's next and some organization. If you just keep everything in your head it won't work out as well. Things can get scrambled up and forgotten that way and an outline works miracles. For mine I only write the big plots down or important details I'm worried I'll forget. For example, for this chapter all I wrote down was "dinner with family- draco's love for Pansy, marcus is at dinner- teeth fixed, mention dark lord." I made an entire chapter with that, which is why I say all the details in your head are very important haha they fill everything in. Your outline doesn't have to be very detailed, just the skeletons.

Although that's just how it works for me. All the published authors I've talked to do say use an outline, and they always stress _never stop writing_. It's the death of an author really, at least it is when they're in the middle of a series or book.


	29. Chapter 29

Chapter 29

* * *

She watched in the mirror as her mother curled the last piece of her white-blonde hair, placing it up in a beautiful, elaborate up-do when she had finished. Her mother leaned down to kiss her only daughter on the cheek, placing her hands comfortingly on Lyra's shoulders.

"You look so beautiful. You're becoming a woman before my very eyes."

Lyra knew her mother meant nothing harmful by her words, but they made Lyra uneasy. The closer she was to adulthood, the closer she was to marrying Flint. The Malfoys had never sat down as a family and decided when she would marry Marcus, but she had a feeling it wouldn't be much of a wait after her graduation date.

"Come, up," her mother demanded with amusement in her eyes, tugging at Lyra's hand lightly. "Your betrothed is waiting outside in the hall."

The pitter patter of butterflies fluttered about her belly but she only gave her mother a brave smile, not willing to show her inner turmoil.

They were having their annual Yule Ball. Only the most prestigious were invited. Mostly purebloods, but a few half-bloods too. Sometimes even the occasional muggleborn, if warranted. It was the first time she was expected to arrive with Flint as an implied couple. Her parents no longer viewed her as a child, which did not bode well for her.

Her mother pressed her palm into Lyra's lower back, pushing her lightly towards Marcus. Lyra tried to smile at him, but it felt like more of a grimace on her end.

Mother and father laced arms, both giving her a pleased nod before entering the ball room with cold but beautiful faces.

"Shall we?" he asked politely, gesturing her towards the door. She agreed softly, clutching his arm tighter than necessary. "Breathe," he said as the door opened revealing the blurred faces that blended seamlessly together. "This is new, but you'll be fine. You're a Malfoy."

It was all she needed to hear to don her mask, tilting her lips into a slightly pleasing expression and nodding to each guest she met eyes with. Her father was already meeting with fellow politicians, her mother appearing charming but distant. Draco was off pouting near the refreshments with Blaize Zabini and Theodore Nott, clearly unhappy about not being able to be announced with Pansy as Lyra had been with Marcus.

Marcus pulled her into a dance, a slow waltz that she had done so many times there was no thinking required on her part. Her eyes were about level with the tops of his shoulders without heels. With them she could easily see over them, watching the crowd around her.

"You have calmed some, yes?" Marcus asked after a moment, pulling back slightly so that he could look at her.

She brought her gaze to his, giving a slight, almost imperceptible nod.

"We only need to dance a few times to keep up appearances," he murmured.

It wasn't the dancing that she didn't like, it was the way people looked at her. As if they knew everything about her. Not everyone stared at her so. These select people mingled between the crowds, never quite gathering together. She couldn't figure out what they had heard about her for them to look at her in such a way. It wasn't the betrothal, it couldn't be. Her parents had officially announced her betrothal to Flint her first year at Hogwarts, although most knew she had indeed made a pact before that. Like most, they didn't know the exact details of it. Much like Lyra hadn't herself.

"Our fathers," Lyra began slowly. "Did they agree to a certain year for us to marry?"

"No, not exactly. They seemed to only have agreed to a betrothal."

Lyra breathed easier, lying her head gently upon his shoulder.

"Why have you been hanging out with that mudblood recently?"

Her calm mood vanished at once as her blood ran like molten lead, the fear gathering in her.

"Who? Mary Caldwell?" she asked fighting down an edge of hysteria. "I've always hung out with her. It was for the farce I've built at Hogwarts."

"No," he pressed. "I mean the other one. The boy in your grade. In Gryffindor."

She swallowed thickly.

"Which one? There's two."

"The one with a camera."

"I- I didn't realize I spent more time with him than normal. I'll make sure to remedy this upon my arrival at Hogwarts."

He gave her a disgruntled look but did not argue further about it. As soon as the dance ended she parted from him, giving Flint an uneasy smile before darting into the crowd. She reached for a nearby wine tray that was floating effortlessly in the air, downing it all in one gulp.

"Perhaps the Malfoys are changing," she heard a nearby feminine voice say. "Their daughter is a Gryffindor, and my boy says she's friends with muggleborns. I never thought I'd hear the day when someone said that a _Malfoy_ could be friends with a muggleborn."

She took another glass, tipping it back in one go. She wiped her mouth with her wrist, making her way to the edge of the room and avoiding eveyone's gaze. It was too late for those things to matter. The whole reason she went into Gryffindor was for her father, but now he could never be prime minister. Not with him at the Dark Lord's every beck and whim. He was beginning to look disheveled, and her father never looked like that. At least his facial expressions never wavered. If it did she would be quite worried.

"It's disgusting, that girl of theirs. If she were mine I would have disowned her," a well-dressed gentleman muttered with a sneer. "She probably lies with that filth."

The men around him chuckled, not realizing the source of their amusement was right behind them. She needed fresh air, and time to think. Everything was getting to her, and she had a headache. The wine probably wasn't such a good idea, but if felt needed at the time.

Wine still seemed quintessential to her being, actually.

She walked out into the frosty darkness, little tuffs of snow hanging off the stone bannisters. Her mother had placed a warming charm on this area for the party. She always did, so Lyra did not feel the brunt of the cold too harshly.

The moon was a golden crescent, the stars its backdrop. The lake reflected the moon's rays, soaking them up and showcasing them beautifully. A smattering of trees lay near the pond, and closest to her a sleeping garden hidden by the white of accumulated snow. She couldn't help but think Colin would have loved to take a picture of this.

"You can't listen too much to them, my sweet. They'll always be saying something about you." Her mother's voice was calm, the clack of her heels loud in the silence of the night. "Even after you've changed your name people will think of you as a Malfoy. Your surname is too old, too powerful, for much else."

"I just needed some fresh air."

Her mother nodded, tilting her trademark red wine up to her ruby lips. "Your brother thinks the whole world is his fifth year Slytherin friends. He cannot see beyond and that there are so many more people. But it is no matter. He shall learn after Hogwarts that there is more to life than what is directly in front of your eyes." She turned to Lyra, her lips upturned. "It seems you've already learned this lesson, but then you usually do discover things like this faster than your brother. Don't tell him I said that."

Lyra laughed, the sound wispy and swallowed by stillness surrounding them.

"Don't wander too far tonight Lyra. You never know who you might run into," her mother warned. Something in her eyes has stilled, begging Lyra to catch onto the hidden meaning that lied there. Her mother was gone before Lyra could question her further.

She danced a few more times that night, just to be polite, before heading up to bed. These parties were more of a headache than anything. It was filled with people attempting to scrape their way up the social ladder. No one actually went to have fun. The Triwizard Ball was a new experience for her. Not many children attended the Malfoy Yule Ball, so as a child it was very lonely. Lyra only had Draco to talk to, and she never knew what mood he would be in back then. Sometimes he loved to play with her, other times he scorned the day she was born.

She rubbed at her head with a sigh, squeezing her shoulder to relax herself as she walked up the stairs to her room.

"Leaving so soon?"

She straightened her back immediately, turning around to respond to whoever it was that had called out to her. He was male, that was for certain, and he stuck to the shadows.

"I'm afraid I had to retire early," she said, squinting into the dark. "I have a headache."

He took a step forward, coming out just enough for the light to ghost a path across his nose.

Or rather, his lack of.

Lyra didn't have time for the sickening fear to hit her. As soon as their eyes connected she could feel him rifling through her thoughts, unable to pull her gaze away.

She was a traditional pureblood enthusiast, she thought to herself in panic. She believed in the Dark Lord's plight. Purebloods were supreme beings and mudbloods needed to be put in their proper place.

Colin.

She wanted to scream, cry out in anguish as he took that strain of thought and traced it to its source.

"My lord?" she heard her father ask.

She hadn't realized that he had moved from his previous spot in the shadows. Now he stood before her, his blood red eyes staring callously into her blue. She could not tell how long he had been pilfering through her thoughts. His hand held her chin in place, keeping their gazes locked. He searched for a moment longer, scraping his way violently across her memories, then finally let her go.

She fell to the floor, wrapping her arms across her chest and shaking. She had thought Moody and his Imperious curse on her had been the worst thing that could ever happen to her. She had been outrageously wrong. She felt dirty, unclean. As if no matter how much she scrubbed she could not get his noxious touch out of the threads of her mind. She hummed lightly, not high enough for anyone to hear, attempting to keep the fear away.

He knew.

The Dark Lord knew about Colin, her thoughts on blood purity, and so many other things. Her trembling increased, knowing at any moment this could be her last breath.

"My lord, is anything wrong?" her father asked anxiously.

The Dark Lord circled her like a vulture that had stripped away her overly complicated layers until only her true self laid prone before him.

"Lucius, I'm afraid your daughter isn't all you had hoped." Lyra couldn't bring herself to look up at either one of them. "She has such… _traitorous..._ thoughts."

It seemed her father was just as voiceless as her, because he couldn't come up with a response.

"But I have nothing to worry about this one," he said, his voice like sandpaper on glass. It grated on her, bunching her shoulders into knots. It slithered across her like poison, scratching away until only raw and blemished skin remained. "She will never disobey you. Her blood is pure, of the finest breeding." He turned to her father. "She is to be married to the Flint boy, yes?"

"I, yes, my lord," he answered taken aback.

"Good. Very good. Keep it that way."

Her father swept down into a bow, getting his bearings. "I live to serve you."

The Dark Lord made a noise of agreement, stepping back into the piercing darkness. "This party has been very convenient for me Lucius. I've been able to scope out many possible prospects."

"I am glad, my lord," her father answered, closing the door behind them and dulling their voices to undiscernible tones she couldn't make out.

She took a deep breath in, crawling the rest of the way to the staircase and leaning her head against the wall, finally letting herself go. She cried so hard that her vision became water colors, blurred and seamlessly blended together.

Everyone was in danger and it was all because of her traitorous heart. She should have never listened to her father three years back, should have never agreed to his stupid little plans. What she should have done is be a good little Slytherin and not worry about how her father viewed her. It would have been better that way, because then she would have never become friends with a blood traitor or a mudblood. She would have hated muggleborn's, and never given them a chance to get underneath her skin and pierce their way in her heart.

"Lyra? What's wrong?" she heard her brother ask. A hand placed itself on her shoulder, warm and comforting.

A bunch of jumbled, inconsistent sounds was her answer. They could barely be considered syllables, truthfully. He sighed softly, mumbling under his breath about overemotional girls before helping her up and practically dragging her the rest of the way up the steps.

"That's it. Only one more step to go. There, you did it!" he said, the relief clear in his voice.

"Draco," she warbled out, clutching his expensively, pressed robes in her hands and crumpling them.

The Dark Lord knew.

He knew about Colin and the blood traitor Ginny Weasley; Mary Caldwell, the mudblood. Even Romilda, the half-blood that he barely considered allowed to frequent their world. He saw all of Lyra's secrets laid bare, all her friend's secrets. He saw her mask, and exactly how much of a forgery it was.

There was no hiding anymore. She might have just endangered everything she ever cared about. Even distancing herself from everyone would not fix it, _not when he knew_.

"Lyra, whatever it is everything will be okay. You'll go to sleep tonight and you'll dream wonderful dreams and when you wake up it will all be alright again," her brother promised, holding her tightly in her arms.

She let out another dry heave, the trembles wracking her body wild and unrestrained.

It could never be like that. That world had been violently seized from her. She had never felt so powerless in her life.

* * *

Guest Comments:

Guest: Who knows what's going to happen haha thanks for the review!

Allie- He doesn't care with Draco as long as it doesn't get out, although he wouldn't tear down the Flint betting ring if Lyra and Marcus had pre-marital sex. Now if Draco or Lyra got pregnant from it that would be a whole different story... basically their life would be over.


	30. Chapter 30

Chapter 30

* * *

Lyra sat silently in the train compartment. Mary and Romilda were across from her, gossiping about Christmas and all their horrible relatives.

"And Aunt Bethra, she just _loves_ Emma. Calls Emma a 'mini her.' My sister can't seem to realize it's an insult, not that either of them see it that way! Poor dad hid in his man cave, that's what he calls it. It's filled with sports stuff and muggle drinks and things. I don't really understand it, none of us do, but he always goes there when relatives come over. It's a good thing dad doesn't have siblings otherwise we would never get to gather everyone for Christmas, since my grandparents are muggles and all." Romilda paused when the door slid open, revealing their last remaining friend. "Ginny! You're back!" Romilda screeched, practically running over the red-headed girl in her frenzy to hug the girl.

"Don't kill me," Ginny coughed out, staring at Lyra and Mary with frightened eyes.

"Oh! Sorry! SORRY! I didn't mean to! I was, I was just so worried Ginny. You have no idea," Romilda pattered on, twisting her hands nervously.

"So," Mary said, interrupting their curly haired friend when she went to take a deep breath after that particularly long passage. "What happened last trimester?"

Ginny finished situating herself, sitting next to Lyra in the available seat as they all sat with baited breaths.

"My dad was attacked."

Romilda let out a gasp.

"He was… working, when it happened. Everything was very hush, hush." Ginny glanced at Lyra in her peripherals, telling Lyra all she had to know.

It had something to do with Death Eaters.

Or the Dark Lord or dark magic or something of that nature. She wasn't sure what it was, but she knew it. Lyra could feel it, which was probably why Ginny had been so silent this break. Mary and Romilda had said Ginny had written to them, even telling them that she was alright and not to worry. Lyra had received no such letter, and with her being at Malfoy Manor it shouldn't have been a surprise.

Lyra was still trying to decide how to proceed after everything that had happened during break. Her brother had been very supportive, even if he still didn't know why she had been so upset all break.

Father avoided her.

She didn't know what that meant, but didn't want to know either. The answer was sure to pain her, give her even more hurt than she had a want or need for. Did that mean it was only a matter of time before her father disowned her? She wasn't sure, and right now nothing was safe. She wasn't sure it ever was. Everything was a game to the Dark Lord. The Dark Lord was the orchestrator of this playing board, and Lyra wasn't even a piece. She was more like a decorative hedge. She had everything to lose and nothing to gain.

She wanted to hate her family for getting her sucked into this. She really did. Her mother had tried to warn her that night on the terrace, but she didn't think. She didn't realize.

"Is your father okay?" Mary asked worried.

"He will be. The healers had to try a lot of things to get his wounds to heal. They even stitched him together, some sort of muggle practice."

Now it was Lyra that was gasping. Mary and Romilda did not seem to be too ruffled by it, although Romilda had a look of distaste in her eyes.

"What about you Lyra? How was your holiday?" Ginny probed, sitting back with her arms crossed against her chest and a knowing look in her eye.

Lyra looked away.

"Mother and father announced Marcus and I as a couple."

There was a moment of oppressive silence.

"What does that mean?" Mary questioned.

Ginny answered for Lyra. "It means that they have officially started their dating. They're engaged to each other, he's her fiancé or whatever now."

"Oh Lyra," Romila said softly, pity in her eyes.

"It doesn't matter," Lyra said softly with a steady breath. "I knew this day would come."

"Does that mean… that you're going to not do… whatever it is your doing with Colin anymore?" Mary asked.

She fiddled with the locket across her neck, the Malfoy crest clutched tightly in her hand. "Yes."

"How?" Romilda questioned cluelessly.

"Don't ask her that!" Mary hissed at Romilda.

Lyra gnawed on her left cheek. "I'm not sure."

She couldn't plan something like that. She didn't even want to picture it, how his face would slowly crack into fragments of itself. That stubborn tilt of his face that she knew would appear, because Colin never gave up on anything important without a fight. Not really.

She was a very stupid girl. A Slytherin could never be able to follow their heart, and the Malfoys were Slytherins if anything.

"Are you okay?" she heard Mary ask.

Lyra's brows furrowed until they were almost a completely straight line. She blinked harshly as she attempted to keep tears back, fiddling with the hem of her skirt as she watched the snow covered fields pass by.

"Father knows."

A heavy silence sat in the air. She took a deep breath in, staring bitterly at the light fixture attached to the ceiling.

"He knows about us, our friendship. That it's real. He found out. Someone told him, and now…" she trailed off, unable to form words. She didn't know what would happen. Her father loved her, she had no doubt about that, but he _abhorred_ blood traitors and mudbloods. The Malfoy family had never stood for them. When one looked at the Malfoy family tree it always seemed so perfect. Each designated head accomplishing so much in their lifetime, maintaining or increasing their monetary worth and influence. No squibs were accounted for, no blood traitors. If her father acted she would be more than just disowned and disinherited.

She wasn't really sure what her father was capable of anymore.

"We can't be friends anymore, not like we used to be. It would be throwing it in his face. He, he will not speak to me now. He hasn't since he learned of it." Her voice wobbled. "I don't want to lose my family. I can't. They're all I have."

"That's not true," Mary said, sitting between Ginny and Lyra and gripping Lyra's hand tightly in her own. "You have us. We'll always be there for you."

"It's not the same as family though! I need, I need my family!" she burst, tears falling down in earnest. "Look as us. How long will we last? Already we are splintering. Ginny does not trust me, and you are wary. A war looms above our heads that Mary refuse to acknowledge, as most of the wizarding population does; and we are in the middle of it." Lyra carefully took her hand away from Mary's hand, holding her friend's eyes unblinking. "The Malfoys are a dark family, and the Weasleys… well, you can't get much lighter than that. You're a muggle born, and Romilda's father is a muggle. If this war really begins all we will have is our families."

Mary understood then, Lyra could tell, what she had been denying the whole time. Mary had wanted the boy-who-lived to be wrong, she wished for it with vigor. Because the repercussions of Potter speaking the truth were higher than Mary ever wanted to accept. None of them had been there for the first war, but the horror stories were still around. Muggles killed off in droves, people tortured to the recesses of their minds where they never returned. Moody was the living embodiment of what happened in a war, how a person could come out of it if they were lucky enough to survive. What it was like to lose a part of you, a foot and an eye, and to have your family so crudely ripped from you; how it left a gaping openness inside your soul.

Moody had once been normal too, he had a family and a wife and a little boy. But he had been an auror, and being a pureblood had placed a marker on his back early on. Now Moody was the last of his family name, and lived to take down dark wizards. Because that's all he had left, it was his only connection.

"There is no war," Mary said adamantly. "It's all a bunch of rubbish. Propaganda. Rita Skeeter lives for lies."

"What about what Harry says?" Ginny bit out.

"He's confused, and he has a right to be. He's been through a lot. Lyra's just tired, and her father finding out about us has made her pessimistic, is all. Lyra, we can still be friends. We'll just hide it, you'll see. Everything will be alright."

Lyra nodded, but she couldn't help but think bitterly how much she hated to hear those accursed words.

* * *

A week later her father finally decided to contact her, sending his pretentious owl to deliver his words. Her hands shook as she broke the seal, holding the ends tightly to keep it from raveling together again. It began with no preamble.

 _You are to end your disgusting relationships with those filthy, traitorous_ animals _. You will not sully the good Malfoy name any further. I will not allow you to. End whatever you have with them at once and begin to mingle with respectable pureblood children worthy of our prestigious name. I will not warn you twice._

 _Lucius Malfoy_

Even though the note had not been pleasant, she had sighed with relief. Her father had not disowned her. She had already stopped hanging out with her friends in broad daylight, now they only spoke in their dorm room. It made her feel lonely and left behind, but it was her only option. The only safe route.

She still hadn't been able to face Colin.

She hadn't even so much as looked in his direction, steering clear of him. She could feel his eyes on her, probing her, questioning her. She could never bring herself to answer. She was losing so much at once, and she just wanted to hold onto this a little longer.

Lyra's eyes turned to the Slytherin table, searching out the familiar faces. She knew just about all of them by name. Rachel Bulstrode was in her year, and a fine duelist at that. She was the heir of the Bulstrode family, and her father would be satisfied with a friend like that. Rachel often hung out with Tracy Davis, a girl one year their elder. Tracy was a half-blood like Rachel's sister, which probably made Rachel Bulstrode more open to that friendship than most.

Those two weren't the worst of people. They were looking like her best prospects at this point. Pansy Parkinson was incorrigible, and Millicent Bulstrode was a little too dense for Lyra's liking. Daphne Greengrass was too snide for her taste.

Currently Lyra sat alone, staring pitifully down the table where Ginny, Romilda, and Mary were laughing merrily with each other. Ginny's eyes met hers and the smile slid off her face. Her lips pursed unhappily, shaking her head in disappointment and turned back to the conversation.

What Lyra _should_ do is go over to the Slytherin table and sit there from now on. It's what her father expected her to do, it's what Draco was waiting for Lyra to do. But as she had found out recently she had problems with letting things go. She _liked_ being a Gryffindor, she was _proud_ to be one. It wasn't easy to pretend that she wanted to be a Slytherin, that she felt the same way her family did. But there was no other alternative. Not for her.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow she would have to be proactive and finally sit at the Slytherin table.

But first she must get through today.

"I don't understand why we have to keep pretending we're not friends," Romilda murmured plaintive that night.

"Don't you get it?" Ginny said, running a brush through her chest length bright red hair. "It's her family. If we know one thing it's that a Malfoy always does what their parents say."

"That's not fair," Lyra said steadily, finally placing her book down. "You're asking me to choose and I shouldn't have to pick between my family and my friends."

The clack of Ginny's brush hitting wood forced a jump out of Romilda. Ginny turned around, her features wild with anger. "No! You know what? It's not fair! Your family shouldn't do this to you. If they loved you at all they would let you be friends with whoever you wanted to be."

"It's not that simple," Lyra said after a moment of stunned silence. "Things don't change overnight."

"All it would take is you standing up to them! Don't you get it! You're _deciding_ Lyra. You're deciding which side you'll be on, and quite frankly if you plan on choosing that side I don't want any part of you."

Lyra's eye stung. She wasn't sure if it was out of anger or hurt. Probably a bit of both.

"Oh here we go again!" Mary grumbled. "It's always about this stupid, invisible war. Muggles aren't dying! No one is disappearing in strange circumstances! Lord Voldemort is not alive!"

Romilda took a deep, startled breath in at the name.

"You shouldn't say that name," Romilda said solemnly.

"And what will happen, huh? Is his ghost going to raise from the dead and scorn me," Mary snorted.

"This war is real," Ginny said quietly.

"With what proof?" Mary challenged.

"My father!"

"Your father what?"

"The whole reason he was hurt this Christmas is because of this!" Ginny burst, losing her temper again. "A snake attacked him on guard duty and he almost _died_!" She took a deep breath in, her eyes widening after what she revealed. "Just… never mind. Pretend I never said anything."

"Ginny, I really am sorry about your father. But being attacked by a snake does not mean Voldemort is back."

"Would you stop saying that name?" Romilda interrupted Mary shrilly.

"Never mind," Ginny said stubbornly. "Pretend I never said anything." Mary sighed, but dropped the subject. "And let's not forget this whole argument started because of you _Lyra_. If your family really loved you they'd let you be with who you want to be, and be friends with whoever you wanted to."

"You don't get it Ginny," Lyra laughed bitterly. "You just don't get it. My family _hates_ muggleborns. They've hated them since the very beginning, all the way back to Armand Malfoy: our first documented Malfoy on the family tree. You grew up with love and happiness, with people telling you that it's okay to make your own decisions and to be proud to stand up for someone who is struggling or perhaps not as strong as you. No matter what you do your family would love you.

No Malfoy ever grew up like that. No Malfoy has ever been taught that. Even when we love we do not give away everything. Love is a weakness, as sad as it is. Even though my father has never admitted that I know he feels that way, not that he regrets loving his family. But… it's really hard to change when you don't know anything else. Sometimes it's easier to let things burn than to salvage them. You grew up with love and warmth, and that's great. But not everyone gets that in their life."

There was a pregnant pause in the room, which Lyra sat with baited breath as they soaked over her words, churning them through their minds and making sense of them all.

"I didn't think of that, I didn't realize… I just thought all parents could think that way Lyra," Ginny said softly.

"It really sucks. I don't want to hide being your friend, but if you say this is the only way then it is," Romilda sighed.

Lyra folded her legs beneath her, examining her friends. Mary appeared thoughtful. A book was in front of her, but she didn't seem to be reading it. She stared blankly at nothing, deep in whatever thoughts troubled her mind. Ginny was frowning at the mirror as she finished up her nightly routine of lotions, conditioners, and hair brushing. She didn't wear much makeup, but she took very good care of her skin. Romilda was scribbling furiously across a paper at her desk, probably something to do with her Harry Potter club. Things had been different since coming back from break. There was almost a fragile silence that sat between them, even when the air was filled with laughter and smiles.

She pulled open her drawer next to her bed, taking out the photo and staring at it. The picture was still in pristine condition, the edges pointy and an eggshell white. The boy in it had warm eyes that crinkled. His brows rose up suddenly in surprise, and then the loop ended. She tucked the photo beneath her pillow, shoving her dresser drawer shut.

"Did I ever tell you guys I broke up with Michael Corner?" Ginny placed her brush down and turned to them.

"No, when did that happen?" Mary asked.

"Oh, just before we left for Christmas break. He didn't like Gryffindor beating Ravenclaw at Quidditch and got really sulky, so I ditched him and he ran off to comfort Cho instead."

Mary snorted in laughter and a giggle fell out of Romilda's lips. Lyra grinned despite herself, shaking her head. At least in this moment everything was okay with them. It felt how it used to.

* * *

A/N: Whoo! I just passed the 100 mark in reviews, a first for me. Thank you everyone for all your reviews and for all the people that favorited and followed this story too! This chapter is dedicated to TaylorLautner-HPfanatic who was my 100th reviewer!

Guest Comments:

Allie- Thanks! Haha Lyra really is a mess right now. You'll know soon enough. ;)

Guest- Hahaha I'm anxious with you!


	31. Chapter 31

Chapter 31

* * *

Luna Lovegood was her only friend in Divination, considering she couldn't be seen with any of her Gryffindor friends out in public. Only Romilda was in this class, and she was at another table whispering with one of her Harry Potter fanclub members.

"So what are your earrings today?" Lyra asked for a lack of a better conversation starter.

Luna's favorite ones seemed to be a pair or radishes, but she currently had on wrinkly pink oval shaped earrings. It was one of the strangest things Lyra had ever seen.

"A snood."

Lyra blinked.

"It's a part of a turkey," Luna said carelessly.

" _What?!_ "

"Oh, you know. The part that wriggles back and forth under its beak. It's considered good luck to keep on your person."

Lyra extrapolated between disgust and intrigue. She was very curious if that meant the item was real, and if so what Luna did to keep it so… for a better lack of word, _lifelike_. It was veiny and withered and possibly had little remnants of hair follicles on it. Now that Lyra was watching the strange items clearly she could see that it actually _rippled_ with each step Luna took.

"I think I'm just going to drop this subject." Lyra decided dubious, keeping a healthy distance between them.

Luna gives her a squinty eye, glancing just above her head. "You've got a lot of wrackspurts around you. You're quite confused at the moment, aren't you?"

Lyra laughs softy. "To say the least, yes."

"I'm not talking about my earrings."

Lyra brings her startled gaze to Luna, whose attention was now on a suit of armor that had been charmed by a student to dance each time someone passed. Somehow even with all the clacky noise it makes Lyra's attentiveness did not waiver.

"I-"

"Lyra, I need to talk to you."

The voice was firm and controlled, completely unlike the boy she usually knew. She squeezed her eyes shut, attempting to compose herself before turning. Luna gave her a knowing look, whispering good bye and molding seamlessly into the crowd, whispering a spell to fetch a knee high sock that one of Luna's roommates had hidden above the arch to land in her waiting fingers.

"Not right now."

She turned around the corner, Colin not too far behind her.

"Yes, right now," he demanded, poorly concealed anger in his voice. "We need to talk. I don't understand- I just don't get it. I think I at least deserve an explanation."

"I can't at the moment," she said, attempting to push off the inevitable.

Colin's fingers curled around her wrist. A moment later he was dragged her down one of the less frequented hallways, her face scandalized and glancing around in paranoia at the nearby students.

"What do you think you're _doing_?" she hissed, pulling out of his reach and rubbing at her wrist.

"Taking matters into my own hands. We need to talk, and obviously you're just going to avoid me." His face softened as he closed the door, running a thumb across her cheek. She couldn't help but relax, leaning into his palm.

She knew when she started this romance how it would end and she still did it. Sometimes her decisions didn't make sense, even to herself. It was all about that feeling, the thrill she got each time Colin was near her. How she seemed to forget everything that was holding her back when in his presence. When she was with Colin she wasn't Lyra Malfoy, heiress and future socialite with unrivaled political power due to her prestige and last name. She wasn't the to-be wife of Marcus Flint, who had a questionable temper and was a member of the Sacred Twenty-Eight.

She was only Lyra, and it was so freeing.

"Now what's going on? You stopped being friends with your fellow Gryffindor's. You avoid everyone, and you're always by yourself. What happened Christmas break? Please tell me, I only want to help."

He stared hopefully at her, dropping his hand from her face and clenching them in tensed fist at his side.

"I- I-"

She couldn't bring herself to explain, to do what she knew she needed to do in order for him to have the least bit of chance of going unscathed by the Dark Lord. She realized then exactly how selfish she was, dragging this on because of how she felt. Even knowing that she couldn't bring herself to open her mouth.

"Did… your parents find out about us?"

If only it was that simple.

"Yes," she answered hesitantly, haltingly.

He took a deep breath in, his face thoughtful. "What did they say?"

Lyra gnawed on the inside of her cheek. She wasn't really sure if her mother had a clue about any of this. Her father knew something was amiss, but she doubted the Dark Lord explained exactly what made her a blood traitor. She had admitted as much in front of her father before, but this was different. This was the _Dark Lord_. That changed everything. Father had to act, his hand had been forced. Lyra understood that much. Her father was in a very precarious position with a fickle Dark Lord whose plans could change at the drop of a knut with no needed explanation.

"He didn't say anything."

"You're lying."

She winced, avoiding eye contact. "Then what do you want me to say?" She couldn't very well tell him that she had almost gotten disowned.

"The truth."

Lyra shook her head sluggishly. "That won't help anything."

He took a step closer, his nose mere centimeters from hers. "I make you happy. I know I do." The breath that whispered out of his lips brushed against her face and she closed her eyes as a feeling of calmness passed through her being.

"You do," she agreed, lids still shut. "You keep me very happy."

"Then that's it. That's all that's important." He placed a careful kiss upon her chin, working his way up to her ear where he whispered. "I don't care if you want to keep this a secret. I understand why, but… we shouldn't give this up, whatever it is. I want you and you want me, and that's all we should care about."

She wished she could afford to think like that. He only affected himself with this relationship, but for Lyra it was her entire family _and_ her betrothed. She wanted very badly to be with Colin, so badly. She had never felt so free and vulnerable and content and liberated in her life than when she was with him. It was very gratifying, to feel completely normal. No blood, no pacts. Only a boy and a girl who fancied each other and very much wanted to be together.

But she only said, "Perhaps."

And he knew right then that he had her in the palm of his hand.

* * *

"We were wondering when you would make it over here." Tracy Davis was a soft spoken half-blood with pureblood values. It wasn't surprising considering the girl was in Slytherin. Most people tended to be traditional if sorted into that house.

Rachel Bulstrode gave Lyra a polite nod, turning back to her food but watching her curiously under dark, lowered lashes.

Lyra had finally taken that last step and sat down at the Slytherin table. She could see her brother watching her from further down the table, which she studiously ignored. He had been doing that lately, observing her. It was beginning to make her paranoid. Father probably told him to do it to make sure she actually ended her friendships.

It was the quietest lunch she had ever had at Hogwarts. Both girls tended to whisper to each other, their eyes trained on other students obviously gossiping about them. They would say a few things to Lyra, but not much. Mostly they only traded pleasantries, and included her just enough to not be considered rude. After all, one couldn't anger one of the Malfoy heirs. It could have… steep repercussions.

The weight of a hand pressed down on her shoulder forced a violent flinch out of her. She hadn't been expecting it. Only Romilda really touched Lyra. Romilda was a very affectionate person and personal space almost didn't exist to her dark skinned friend. As Romilda was definitely not nearby it had surprised her.

"We need to talk." Cold grey eyes stared into hers, her father's eyes. But they were placed in a young face, and with features a bit too feminine for her father's strong bone structure.

If she heard the words 'we need to talk' one more time she swore she would scream.

"Very well then."

Draco led them out of the Great Hall, taking her down winding corridors and out of sight until they reached a single classroom. Lyra closed the door behind her and when she turned around her brother was leaning on a nearby table, his hair falling into his eyes with a blank expression while he stared down at the stone floor with miserably crossed arms. She waited patiently for him to speak, watching as his foot began to tap against the ground and he reached a hand up to squeeze the bridge of his nose tiredly.

"You have," he paused, searching for the right words. "Done as father has asked. I no longer see you associating with your… old crowd."

"Yes," she whispered, wondering exactly what this was about. She tugged on her sweater vest nervously, gnawing on the side of her cheek.

"This past holiday break," he said with a bitter laugh. "You were there when father talked about my choice, Pansy Parkinson."

Lyra's nose wrinkled in distaste, but she agreed.

"You laugh at my wishes, but yet," he says, turning to stare Lyra in the eyes. "Your choice is much worse than mine."

It took Lyra a moment to truly understand what Draco is telling her, because it's almost inconceivable. She had been so careful, so cautious. She schooled her features, making it so that nothing was revealed upon her face. This playing field was dangerous. It didn't matter that her brother was her component.

"Draco, I have no clue what you are talking about."

He truly laughed then, tossing his head back carelessly with his arms still across his chest. His gaze was mocking when their eyes met again, his smirk stamped with a seal of cruelty. "Oh, do you not? Do you really want to play this game with me?"

A stirring of fear swam in her stomach and she fought with herself as her arms attempted to circle around her waist protectively.

He turned his back to her, pacing the small space between the isles as he rubbed at his hairless chin. "I know about that disgusting mudblood. How could I not? It's one thing to associate with them, but another thing entirely to lie with one."

She fought between indignation and anger, glaring at him. He brushed her off.

"That was figuratively, sweet sister. You should know that. You wouldn't _really_ give yourself away to such filth, would you?"

"That is none of your _concern_ Draco," she hissed with clenched fist. "And what mudblood, Draco? I still haven't a clue what you are talking about."

He studied her face meticulously, watching each feature. "You've always been so good at withholding emotion. I used to envy you, you know? You could do everything father ever asked of you, and I was always making mistakes. You were the _perfect_ child. Seen and not heard, you never argued. You only had to be told once and never twice, and father never had to repeat himself to you," he listed, ticking each one off with his fingers. His unkempt hair swayed back and forth across his forehead. Draco seemed almost… crazed. Something was getting to him, and this outburst was the result.

"Draco," she said calmly, laying a comforting hand across his arm. "I don't know what you think you saw, but it wasn't that. Are you feeling… alright?"

"I know what I saw!" he burst, ripping his arm away from her vehemently. "You go into an empty room with that picture taking mudblood and come out with tousled hair and red lips! I'm not obtuse! Flint always used to say things about that filthy little mudblood, but I never thought they were true! I see I was wrong, and he was right to be paranoid about him."

Lyra couldn't stop herself from paling at the mention of Marcus's name. "Draco, whatever you're thinking about doing, please don't." She wasn't above begging. Her pride meant nothing when it came to Colin.

He turned to look at her. Gone was the anger and now only confusion and incredulousness stayed. "You don't really think I'd tell him, would you?"

Her eyes widened, and for a moment she was frozen. "Then what are you trying to do! You drag me in here completely _deranged_ and go off on some tangent about me being a perfect child! Then you say _that_ and bring up Marcus Flint and father!"

"I- bloody hell! Lyra, I'm not crazy! I wouldn't do that to you! Just- You need to end it! You've experiment and had your fun or whatever! Honestly, if you were going to do that at least choose a half-blood to mess around with."

Tears of relief swim in her eyes and Lyra did all she could to keep them from falling. "Draco," she murmured pitifully. "I thought- I thought that- that you…." She gave up completing her sentence, rubbing her eyes on the hem of her sleeve.

"Are you _crying_?" He said utterly shocked and a bit bewildered. "Lyra, you never cry." At least not in front of people, she though. "Oh, Merlin's beard! I was angry, okay? I was mad that you had the audacity to make fun of me for liking Pansy, but then you do worse. You do know that Creevey boy rather looks like a mouse, don't you? You said Pansy looks like a pug but then that mudblood looks exactly like a mouse. It's _uncanny_."

Everything was flooding out off her at once. Relief, shock, anger. All the fear trickled away and each breath brought on a new onslaught of tears. "I thought you were going to tell father," she blubbered. "I thought you would tell Marcus, and then- then-" Her tears won again, cutting off her voice.

"I'm not a bloody idiot, Lyra. Marcus is much too protective of you for his own good. I can't imagine what he'll be like once he's married and in love. It's frightening, quite truthfully. As for father… I would really love to tell him, you have _no_ clue. But I won't. Father is already angry with you. I'm not sure what he'd do if he found out about this. Just end it, okay? End it and I promise I'll never bring this up again. Merlin, you can _Obliviate_ me if you'd like. I'd rather not see my sister in that type of state again."

A dry laugh comes out between her sniffles and she caught onto an interesting piece of information that Draco had said during his rant. "What are you talking about? You've always been the favorite child."

His face twisted in astonishment. "Are you bloody kidding? All father talks about is how great you are." He sat up straight, taking on father's cold facial expression and haughty voice. "Draco Lucius Malfoy, if your sister had been the one here today we would have save thousands of galleons. But because your expression exposed exactly how much I wished to acquire this business deal, I am left bereft and quite displeased." He dropped the façade. "Oh Lyra, if only you had been a boy! Then father would have had everything he wanted and I could have been the lazy son that could do whatever he wanted."

"You still would have been older," Lyra pointed out, wiping her eyes dry.

Draco snorted, shaking his head. "That wouldn't have mattered to him. You're only a year younger, and I would have happily agreed to the switch."

Lyra swallowed thickly, watching him with hesitant eyes. She thought the whole time he was going to tell father and Marcus about what she had been doing, but really he had been angry and bitter about not being able to have Pansy. It had been a long time since they had something in common. Of course Draco wouldn't view it that way.

"Are you going to break up with Pansy?"

"No."

"Are you going to tell her that you cannot marry her?"

A moment of hesitation, and then a muttered, "No."

She almost laughed then, but held herself back knowing he wouldn't receive that very well. It seemed they were very similar in their choices of unappropriate future spouses.

"Father wants me to marry Astoria Greengrass."

Her brows raised. Astoria was a Slytherin the year below her. She was a beautiful brunette with classical features. She was also charming and polite, and very soft spoken. She could picture them together. They would look very nice together. Astoria was an appropriate choice for a Malfoy heir, with impeccable manners and being part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight to boot.

"But I don't want her, I want Pansy," Draco continued.

"It doesn't matter what we want," Lyra whispered.

"Do you really want that mudblood?" Confusion was etched across his face. He really couldn't understand Lyra and truly wanted to know.

She gave a soft nod, clutching her hands together nervously.

"Why?"

Oh, how she _abhorred_ that question.

"Why do you want to marry Pansy," Lyra countered.

He nodded. "Fair enough." He walked over to her, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Just… get rid of him, okay? It's not safe to be liking a mudblood. You're a Malfoy, and people will tear you apart for it. If not for you, do it for him. You say you have feelings for him, then act upon them and break your ties with him before it's too late."

She took a startled breath in, watching as he left out the door. It was rare for Draco to give her advice, and he had never given her such astute ones. Maybe Pansy was good for him. Maybe she helped him see clearer and showed him things that could never be taught. Perhaps Pansy Parkinson had more to her than a pug face and nasty barbs.

Probably not. She was certain learning to love Pansy had done this to him, not any words or advice the girl had to offer.


	32. Chapter 32

Chapter 32

* * *

The next day Danold Flint's gossip from last summer finally bore fruit. Across the _Daily Prophet_ sat ten photos of past Death Eaters. Her aunt's crazed face laid staring straight back at her. Lyra had only heard good things about her aunt, like how beautiful she was. How powerful her magic had been and that she was an intelligent witch. The picture before her in the newspaper was unkempt. She appeared arrogant, cruelty etched into her smirk. Lyra shivered, almost in denial that this woman was her aunt. How her mother and this woman were related she had no clue. Mother was able to be kind and loving, but it was clear that this woman could only cause pain. She compared the two. Mother had straight, blonde hair; Bellatrix had madly framed, dark curls spiraling from her head. Her aunt was heavy lidded, mother was not. Bellatrix had brown eyes, and mother had a startling blue. But after that everything was eerily…

Similar.

The same jaw, identical cheek bones. They both had a delicate nose and almond shaped eyes. Perhaps the years in Azkaban had ripped away her aunt's beauty, because there were still remnants of what had been.

On the next page it covered the death of a ministry official, under a somewhat suspicious demise. She was almost certain this had the Dark Lord's touch on it. He had become bold after getting his favorite and most loyal followers back.

It did not bode well.

The ministry were still holding their stance that the Dark Lord was not back, because later that day Educational Decree Number Twenty-Six was posted. It stated that teachers could only talk to their students about the subject they were paid to teach.

The world was in danger and all the ministry could do was be ignorant bloody idiots.

It frustrated her to no end. It took her a moment to realize that if the ministry did get their stuff together, exactly who would be in trouble.

Her family would.

She folded the newspaper away tiredly. No matter the outcome of this war she would always lose. She loved people on both sides of it, cared for them all. But now it was too late for any of them to truly win. Perhaps this ignorance was for the best, no one would feel that foreboding or fear of their family getting hurt. Not yet at least, and the longer that was not felt the better.

She was half tempted to stop showing up for DA lessons, but she knew she sorely needed them. Potter taught them pretty useful stuff, like how to do Patronuses and convenient dueling spells one might need. Lyra had not been able to make a corporal Patronus yet, but she was content with her little mist of happiness that hovered just above the ground. Besides, it was one of the few times she could freely speak to her friends outside of the girl's dormitory.

Of course, after Potter gave that interview to the _Quibbler_ , it made Umbridge all the more suspicious of them all. She watched Potter constantly, making it much harder to host and get to DA meetings. Umbridge usually left her alone. She was certain it was because of Lyra's last name because the old hag tended to let Slytherins be. It was rumored Umbridge was from a traditional family, as her house was Slytherin when she attended Hogwarts. She claimed she was a pureblood, but every member of the Sacred Twenty-Eight knew better than that. Umbridge was a half-blood through and through. She had been lying about it since her rise in the Ministry.

She made another fatuous educational decree banning every student from obtaining _The Quibbler_. That made just about every student read it. Sometimes that toady woman was not very smart. Very few people read that magazine, and by banning it she made it a hot commodity. She even heard one fifth year Hufflepuff boy selling his copy in the hall for an outrageous sum, and people actually buying it.

The sacking of Professor Trelawney was a fiasco. Lyra had been in class when it happened, but Romilda had been there and recounted the whole thing in a fit of tearful nerves. Umbridge was ruthless, uncaring about anyone but herself and the ministry. Lyra was almost certain Umbridge only cared about the ministry because that was who gave her power. Dumbledore had finally involved himself with the recalcitrant woman in order to keep Umbridge from throwing Trelawney off of Hogwarts' grounds. It seemed even Dumbledore could not completely control her.

More and more students were walking around with scarred hands. Many of them were still very defiant, particularly Lee Jordan, Fred and George Weasley, and Harry Potter. Potter was too brash, and all this extra attention that he was forcing the faculty to pay attention to him only hindered him in the long run.

Colin's eyes met hers from across the room, a playful smile on his lips. She mustered a weak grin, stirring up her courage and gesturing with her eyes to have him meet her in an empty corridor. He gave a barely perceptible nod and shortly after walked out of the heavily frequented Gryffindor common room and out into the hallway. A few minutes later she left herself, heading to their usual meet up room.

She wrung her hands, nerves dancing down her arms and into her palms. She attempted to rehearse in her mind what she should say to him. _It's not working out._ No, Colin wouldn't buy that. _I no longer feel what I used to feel for you._ She sighed, shaking her head tiredly. None of thar would convince Colin. He was bullheaded, and able to read her better than most.

As soon as she entered the door a hand snaked its way into hers and that smile Lyra loved so much was on his face. The grin spread across her face uninhibited.

"Are you okay? Today you seem a little out of it," he whispered.

"I'm fine." Her throat swelled as she sat there staring into his eyes. She attempted to swallow but the thick feeling remained. "We should-"

"No."

She stared at him with raised brows, her mouth making a perfect circle. He watched her with determination in his eyes.

"I know what you're going to say, and I'm telling you no."

She couldn't bring herself to look at him anymore.

"Colin, I know how you feel."

"No, Lyra. You really don't," he said with a bitter smile.

"I want you to be happy," she said unsteadily, "and you can't have that with me."

"That's a bunch of rubbish and you know it."

Her eyes welled with tears. She turned her gaze upon the wall in an attempt to hide it. She knew this would be hard, but now that she was here and this was the moment it seemed impossible.

"I'm betrothed Colin."

"You've been betrothed the whole time. What's changed now?" His hand rested on her hip hesitantly. "You're afraid. I get it, so am I. This could turn out to be a disaster. But I was willing to risk it, you were too, for something that could be great. We could be great Lyra."

She turned around, finally composing herself. She had donned her mask. She had to in order to get through this. "In this moment," she said, finishing Colin's earlier sentence. "What you're not saying is 'it could be great in this moment.' This wasn't going to last forever. You had to have known that when this began Colin."

"No," he began with a trace of annoyance. "I didn't. What I thought was here is the girl of my dreams, and she likes me." Rancorous laughter filled the room, twisted with outrage and resentfulness. "I thought that we could make this work, and that you'd see exactly how foolish it was to go along with your family's wishes. Don't you see, Lyra? You're not like them. You're you. You make friends with muggleborns, and are fiercely competitive when it comes to grades. You can admit your faults, and love those silly little Sour Apple Bites. You're fiercely protective of the ones you love." He took a step closer to her, his eyes darkening. "You're my Lyra, who enjoys having kisses in the dark. Who holds my hand and looks at me with nothing but love."

"I don't love you," she immediately denied.

"No," he answered surely. "You do, and I love you too. There was never a time for words like that between us, but I think you need to hear them."

"Colin, I don't love you," she repeated.

His eyes were calm, and he shook his head slowly. "You can deny it all you want, but you know the truth."

She took an unsteady breath in. "I am betrothed. I am loyal to my family and will not let them down. When the times comes I will marry Marcus Flint, and nothing you do or say will change that."

His reaction was immediate. His hands clenched into fists, and his breathing sped up as he stared irefully at her. "Then please tell me, what was the point of all of this?"

"Sometimes people are very selfish," was all she had to offer.

He glared at her, pacing angrily up and down a few moments before kicking a chair across the room, making her flinch.

"I know you Lyra! You're spewing bullshit right now! For once in your bloody life just say the truth! The real truth! Tell me you're afraid! Tell me that you're not ready to do what you really need to do! Tell me that you really do love me and none of this was fake to you either, because all of it was real to me! I just need-" He paused mid-sentence, taking deep calming breaths in until the anger slid off his face. "I don't know why I'm here Lyra, not anymore. Obviously I'm wasting my time. I think I'm going to leave. Goodbye Lyra, I hope you got whatever you were looking for out of this."

The door shut ominously behind him. She wrung her hands, soaking everything in, and then opened the door quietly. He had already disappeared around a corner, and she headed the opposite way. She walked down the corridor, her unsteady breaths the only sound surrounding her. As soon as she reached an empty classroom she closed the door, sliding down until she lay sprawled against the floor.

And she cried.

Big heaving cries, uncontrolled and breathless. Her vision blurred and the ragged sounds cancelled out anything else she might hear.

She hated Colin. She hated him so much. Because he told her the truth when she had never wanted it.

* * *

A/N: I would love to get some criticism for this story. So far I haven't gotten any and it would be greatly appreciated. I also posted this early to thank you all for all the support you have been giving this story. I really am thankful for it.

Guest Comments:

Allie- There was one chapter where I started messing with the tense because I thought I got it wrong. It may have been the last chapter. I love using polysyndeton! Haha it just makes everything flow so well. When Draco says sweet sister I actually picture Jaime saying it when he's pissed at Cersei haha Draco always says it sarcastically.

Guest- Ginny is the third most seen character in this story. I can pick four characters that this story is about so she made it. Marcus Flint would have been in the character list too but he did not exist for some reason. Probably because he isn't a very well liked and overlooked character. In the book Draco liked Pansy so it's not really a stretch at all.


	33. Chapter 33

Chapter 33

* * *

Lyra figured she might as well do everything at once, so she stopped going to DA meetings too. If her relationship with Colin taught her anything, it was to nip something in the bud before it even began.

Colin was angry constantly. He always stomped everywhere he went, and his temper was on a short leash. Just the other day he had an outburst at his brother, Denis, whose eyes immediately began to swim with tears. He calmed instantly, wrapping a hand around the younger boys shoulder and talking to him with soft undertones. After that his mood was marginally better, but nothing like before they'd had their talk. He barely took pictures anymore, which spoke volumes.

"Did you finish it with him?" her brother whispered into her ear one morning as she sat at the Slytherin table.

She glared at him fiercely, savagely cutting her French toast into bite sized wedges. "What do you _think_?"

He said nothing after that, his face screwing up and his eyes thoughtful. "I think it's your turn to have your heart stomped on, dear brother. I promise it is a _titillating_ experience."

He glared at her something fierce, storming off to sit next to his two oafs and his beloved pug.

"You should come to DA," Ginny said adamantly that night.

Lyra continued to leisurely run the brush through her hair, an attempt to procrastinate on her answer.

"I told you before I have to do this. It's just not a good idea to continue with DA classes."

She finished with her brush, the white blonde strands glimmering in the springtime sunlight. She picked up the Pureblood Directory again, squinting in an attempt to see the running years beneath her aunt's name. But it was a waste of time. That whole part had been blackened by ink.

Her eyes widened and she turned to Ginny. "You wouldn't happen to know about the Black family, would you?"

She was such an idiot. Ginny was a pureblood, and although not traditional she grew up in the magical world and was aware of pureblood politics. She should have asked Ginny months ago. Years even.

Ginny eyed her suspiciously. "Probably not any more than you do. Your mum's a Black, after all."

"That's the thing," Lyra said sheepishly. "I don't really know anything about them. Mother won't talk about her sisters."

"You want to hear about Bellatrix Lestrange?!"

Her eyes widened. "No! My mother's other sister! I know her name is Andromeda, I just found that out this year. I don't even know if my aunt is alive."

Ginny quieted, staring at her with an odd look in her eyes. "So that's what it means to be disowned. Huh, I didn't quite picture that. You mean your mum won't even talk about her?"

"My mother doesn't even mention her in passing. Once as a child when I had found out that mother had sisters she explained that one was no more and the other in a very bad place. It's hard to get much out of my mother when it comes to her family."

Ginny watched her from across the room, her eyes revealing nothing. "Your cousin is a metamorphmagus."

Lyra blinked rapidly, her mouth going dry. " _What_?!"

"It's true. She's a strong witch. Everyone calls her Tonks."

"Tonks?"

"Yeah, it's her last name. You didn't even know that?"

Lyra hid behind her hair, staring down and fidgeting with her blanket feeling embarrassed even though it wasn't her fault. But she couldn't keep silent very long. "Is my aunt still alive?"

"Of course, she's happily married to her husband. Very different from your mother, at least from what I've seen of her. I'm sure your mum's different from that deranged one too," Ginny snorted.

Lyra took a swift breath in, closing her eyes and taking the time to memorize these little facts. All these years she had been searching for information about her aunt's and it had been right in front of her.

"Tell me more. Anything you can think of."

* * *

Colin was only three seats down from her. He steadily ignored her, but she could not bring herself to do the same. He was very angry with her, and when he _could_ bring himself to look at her it was always with a glare on his face. She missed him more than she should, and part of her liked to think that this was only temporary.

She knew it wasn't, but that little bit of denial somehow kept her firmly glued together. She felt like she had lost everything. Her friends, Colin, even DA meetings. Ginny, Romilda, and Mary always came back red cheeked and giggling from them. The laughter would die off once they spotted her steadily writing an essay at the desk, pretending that it didn't bother her that they had such fun without her.

"I told my father about you."

Lyra flinched, turning to look reproachfully at the light haired blonde that stood next to her.

"About what?"

"Your forbidden love, of course. Father thought it was so romantic," Luna said dreamily.

"Luna!" she hissed softly. "I don't know if you realize how this works, but you can't just go and tell everyone about that!" Especially not the writer of a newspaper. She wasn't even sure how Luna knew. Lyra had never said anything about it in front of Luna before, not even hinted.

"One does not tell the world about a forbidden love. Then it would no longer be forbidden, but ruined," Luna said, clearly offended.

Lyra quieted. "So you're not going to tell anyone else?"

Luna scrunched her lips distastefully, shaking her straggly blonde head in a distinct no. Lyra breathed a breath of relief, turning to, once again, continue her earlier activity of staring at Colin.

He was in deep concentration, bursting each spot on the plant with careful hands. His goggles were slightly crooked, and his hair had random tuffs sticking up in the air. It looked as if he had run his hand through it carelessly a few times.

She hissed as her palm came in contact with the Bubotuber pus, flinging her hand away from the offending plant and rubbing her palm across the wooden table in an attempt to get the coagulated liquid off her.

"Ms. Malfoy, if you paid more attention to what you were doing then that little mishap would not have occurred. Instead of getting a good grade and thinking of your health you'd rather ogle boys," Professor Sprout reprimanded with a severe expression, a little too loudly for Lyra's taste.

She felt her cheeks become red immediately, carefully avoiding everyone's questioning gaze. She didn't dare glance over at Colin. She felt too embarrassed to even peer at him from the corner of her eyes.

"You'd better head over to the hospital wing before that gets any worse," the Herbology teacher said with a sigh, placing a firm hand on her shoulder and softly steering her out the door. "I trust you can get there alone."

She agreed softly under her breath, hitching her bag higher on her shoulders. Her hand stung something painful. She tediously ignored it, refusing to even glance at the ruined flesh. Madame Pomfrey would fix her up perfect. She was certain there would not even be a scar.

An arm wrapped around her shoulder making her jump in surprise. She almost fainted out of fear when she realized who it was.

"If it isn't our favorite Malfoy!"

"It's the only Malfoy we like."

"Good point Forge!"

The twins almost spoke too quickly to keep up, and being so close to them, holding their complete attention, left her quite disoriented.

"I- what do you want?" Paranoia was evident in her tone.

"Why must we want something?"

"Maybe we only wanted-"

"To visit," they said together.

She was so flustered that she couldn't come up with a decent response.

"It seems we left the little Malfoy speechless George."

"Well done Mr. Fred."

They shook hands congenially. At least now she knew which was which, not that this would help her out at all.

"Are you two going to prank me?" she asked sullenly.

"Why would we do that?"

"You're our favorite Malfoy."

She stared at them with dull eyes. "That's not saying much."

They burst into raucous laughter, holding onto each other as to not fall to the floor.

"Why, Gred, even little Malfoy knows her brother is a right tart."

"Here, here!"

She brought her smarting hand up protectively to her stomach, attempting to block out the sensitive pulses that were throbbing in it.

"Is that boil trouble I see?" George asked.

"No," she said, hiding her hand behind her back with a faint blush.

"I'm almost certain it was. Take this," Fred recommended. "It will make those disappear instantly."

Contrary to belief, Lyra was not an idiot. She knew anything that Fred and George Weasley told you to consume would only end badly. She firmly kept her lips glued shut, shaking her head no unhappily.

"It's a finished product."

"And I'm sure you don't want your old man knowing about this mishap. Malfoy perfectionism and all."

She took a deep breath in, taken aback. They both looked at each other before turning to smile at her.

"It's free."

"No one has to know."

Knowing her father he did somehow keep tabs on all the mistakes they made during Hogwarts. Marcus certainly did. Her betrothed seemed to know everything she did. With that decided, she hesitantly reached for the strangely shaped pill and hurriedly shoved it down her throat before she could change her mind. The twins wouldn't poison her, the worst would probably be some mild discomfort. At least that's what she told herself as she attempted to calm her wildly beating heart.

They watched her with baited breath, leaving a haze of nervous energy to spread through her.

"See Fred, I told you we fixed the issue."

"I'd say so, her tongue didn't fall out like the other ones."

 _What?_

"Did you just, just… _experiment_ , on me?" she burst, eyes bulging. She should have expected it, but she was still somehow affronted by the act.

"Oh, yes-"

"-but it worked out quite well for you," the other interrupted carelessly.

Fred picked up where George had left off, "All your boils are gone."

"So now you owe us," they said together with a conspiratory look.

She paled, glancing back and forth between the two. "I suppose whatever you're about to ask me is the reason why you came up to me in the first place."

"Touché little Malfoy." Fred gave her a light applause while George dipped down into a faux gentlemanly bow.

"A favor for a favor," George said, at least she thought it was George. Her mind was a bit scrambled at the moment.

"We need you to distract Umbridge. Not very long, only about fifteen to twenty minutes."

"I know you hate that old toad. It will be worth it."

"Very much so Mr. Gred," George said with a righteous nod.

She stared at them hesitantly, gnawing the inside of her cheek in a fit of nerves. "Why do you think I would agree to that?" she asked reluctantly.

"Because little Malfoy. We know you hate Umbridge as much as we do, and you're the only one we can think of that might actually help and not get in trouble for distracting her."

"After all, the pureblooded Malfoy family would never help two rule breaking miscreants!" George grinned with zeal.

"And she would not suspect _you_ of all people to be involved. You barely make a peep in front of her."

"I- what do you want me to do?" she asked resigned.

They smirked glancing at each other over her head with a look of complete mischief.

"We don't care what you do. As long as you can keep her distracted."

Lyra frowned, thinking about all the things that horrible woman had done. The other night Ginny had come back with lines etched into her skin and it infuriated Lyra to no end. That disgusting woman deserved everything the twins did to her and then some.

"I'm in."

"Splendid! Forge, oh how I love it when a plan comes together!"

"Our plans always come together Gred."

"Too true!"

Lyra shook her head feeling a bit disoriented. "When do you need me to do this?"

"Now, of course."

Her jaw dropped and all she could do was stare at them. "But what if I had said no!"

"But you didn't," they brushed off.

"I- I" she sighed, taking a deep, resigned breath in. "Okay, where is she?"

"Near Hagrid's hut!"

"The old toad is judging his class again!"

"Make sure to keep her in the courtyard!"

"We wish you luck!"

They hurried down the hallway and she could hear them talking as they went.

"Do you really think she'll do it?"

The boy wrapped a friendly arm around the other. "Gred, guessing is the fun part."

Lyra frowned, her brows furrowing down into a scowl. Umbridge had never bothered her before, although every now and then she would watch Lyra suspiciously as if she didn't know what to make of her. Lyra was willing to risk this for whatever the twins had going on. Umbridge had been reigning terror over Hogwarts long enough. Ever since Dumbledore had left everything had been insufferable. She was now the headmistress of Hogwarts and held complete power. Lyra worried about what may happen to Fred and George, but they could handle themselves. They weren't vapid despite popular opinion.

She wrung her hands nervously as she neared the hut. The overly imbued pink woman was jotting things down on that deplorably bright pink little clip board of hers. Lyra forced a smile on her face.

"Headmistress Umbrige, how are you?" She hated calling her that. She shouldn't even be a professor let alone the head of Hogwarts.

The woman's brows raised so high they disappeared underneath her curled bangs. "Miss Malfoy, how… pleasant to see you. Is there something you need assistance with?"

Lyra grinned pleasantly, forcing a look of adoration on her face. "Oh, no! I just wanted to commend you on how well you've cleaned up this school."

The toadiest grin slipped upon Umbridge's face, her smile straight and thin lipped. "I'm very glad to hear that. I have so many plans for this school and seeing them all bear fruition is wonderfully invigorating."

Lyra laughed, nodding her head. "I can't wait to see all of them. Anything will be an improvement, really."

This was disgusting.

"I'll admit I wasn't sure about you due to your… unfortunate colors," Professor Umbridge simpered.

Lyra waved her off. "It's justifiable! None of my family understand how I got into Gryffindor. Father's been very accepting of it all."

"I'm so glad to hear that. Your father is a very influential wizard at the ministry."

"Oh, I understand. He is a very busy man."

Lyra was surprisingly good at being civil to the horrible farce of a woman. It seemed being a pureblood did have its perks. When they got to the court yard Lyra paused at the edge, glancing around in paranoia. Nothing appeared to be amiss.

"I must be going Miss Malfoy. It was a pleasure speaking to you. If you keep it up I may even let you on my Inquisitor Squad." Dolores Umbridge's lumpy eyelid winked at Lyra, and she forced herself not to grimace. It had only been ten minutes. It hadn't been long enough.

"Professor Umbridge!" she shouted, attempting to stall her a few minutes longer. "I-"

It seemed Lyra needed to delay her no further, because the second Umbridge turned towards Lyra what was once a courtyard was now a swamp. Lyra hopped to the edge, barely missing getting sludge in her shoes. Umbridge, who happened to be in the middle, sank into the muck, confusion and then disgust showing on her face.

"What is going on here? WHO DID THIS?" she screeched. All the students appeared to be just as shocked as Umbridge, and most had gotten stuck in the swamp themselves. "When I find out I'm going to have Filch flay them alive! Oh, you just wait! Educational Decree Number Twenty-Nine is on its way!"

In her fury she had ripped her foot too harshly out of the mud, ripping her shoe off and making her lose her balance. With a loud PLOP she slammed face first into the mud.

Laughter rang throughout the courtyard, though it was short lived. "All of you have detention!" she screeched, huffing as she pulled herself out. "All of you!"

A loud BANG went off from inside Hogwarts and they all stared wide-eyed. "Oh, what is it now!" The snarky woman muttered a quick _Scourgify_ and stomped into the main entrance of Hogwarts, flinging out another spell to roughly slam the doors open.

Immediately sparks flew out the door, making Umbridge almost stumble in fright.

"What is going on with my school!?" she shouted once she got her bearings. She darted into the entrance, and everyone could hear Umbridge's shrill voice screeching. Lyra could not make out what she was saying, but it was sure to be nasty. A green and yellow firework dragon lazily made its way outside, flickering its tongue before disappearing as the spell wore off.

All day Umbridge and Filch were stuck chasing after the fireworks. Umbridge found out the hard way vanishing them didn't help. Ten more appeared to replace the one. None of the other professors would lift a hand against the colorful fireworks, telling Umbridge they weren't sure they had the _authority_ to do so. Lyra had giggled in mirth. She hadn't felt this great in a very long time.

She was almost certain she was in love with Fred and George Weasley.

Somehow Professor Umbridge found out that the twins had done everything, and that was the end of Fred and George Weasley and their career at Hogwarts. Later on that night she was told by a grinning Romilda that they had left with a bang. They had somehow gotten Peeves to start causing mayhem, allowing them the time to fly off on their brooms with Filch chasing after them on foot. It was too bad Lyra couldn't have seen it. She had been stuck in Charms.


	34. Chapter 34

Chapter 34

* * *

The whole school was in a complete uproar after Fred and George Weasley left. It seemed like every few minutes a prank was going off. Filch was on a mission to whip every wicked student in the castle, but was coming up short since so many people were participating in the mayhem. The Inquisitorial Squad wasn't much help either. Strange things kept happening to them, like Pansy Parkinson suddenly growing antlers and a crude boy named Warrington coming up with a nasty rash that made his skin disgustingly flakey like a shedding lizard.

Then there were the not so obvious supporters of the twins, who took the strange pills the two had sold before they left. They ingested them in Umbridge's classes, forcing them to vomit, faint, receive rashes, and blow blood out both nostrils like a dangerous leaking faucet. The students plagued with these issues stubbornly stated that they were suffering from "Umbridge-itis." Mary and Ginny happened to be two of the proud pupils with this horrifying disease.

Peeves was still at large, and any person in his way best get out of it. He was up to mischief like never before, flipping tables during meal times; scratching long, pointed nails across chalk boards during classes with a cackle; shoving over portraits, vases, and statues; and once almost setting the library on fire after juggling five torches above his head and shouting at the students to throw him more.

None of the teachers would help Umbridge in any way. Lyra was almost certain they were aiding Peeves in their own strange, silent way. McGonagall could be seen mumbling under her breath after passing the poltergeist, giving him what Lyra was almost certain were tips. Flitwick acted like Peeves wasn't even there, and Pomona Sprout blatantly smiled at him.

"Miss Malfoy, I'd like to talk to you after class," Umbridge said grinning wide and toad-like. Lyra felt the beginnings of dread wash over her as everyone hurried to pack up their things. At least, what was left of the class. More than half of them had gotten "Umbridge-itis" when the lesson had began.

Umbridge smiled wide, her eyes almost disappearing in the folds of her face. "I asked you to stay to offer you an opportunity."

Lyra bit down on her left cheek, giving the professor a short nod.

'I would like you to join the Inquisitor Squad. I'm finding we need to expand. There aren't enough of them to catch all these hooligans in the school." She scowled, glaring out the window at a bunch of giggling Gryffindors near the lake.

Physically Lyra did not react, but mentally her mind was chaotic. Nothing good could happen by her joining the Inquisitorial Squad. Draco was constantly being pranked, and Lyra couldn't bring herself to be angry about it anymore. It was dangerous being on that squad. At least right now she was neutral. Joining the team would make everyone hate her. She wasn't sure if she knew enough spells to get back at everyone that would surely prank her. She didn't have the temperament for that sort of work. She forced a pleasant look on her face.

"Headmaster Umbridge, I-"

"I wrote your father about it," Umbridge interrupted impatiently. "Nothing would please him more."

Her smile fell.

Refusing this would anger her father, and she was already stuck in a precarious position with him.

Umbridge took a step towards her, placing her tightly closed fist on the desk and opening it, leaving the miniscule "I" in its place. "I already know your answer, dear. You do not need to reply."

* * *

Her life had gotten very complicated.

Ginny, Romilda, and Mary were furious with her. All of Gryffindor were, and had started whispering "traitor" near her ear when passing by. The very first day she was pranked with a spell that gave her a very undignified shade of purple skin. She had let out a furious shriek, uncaring of decorum, and went to work searching down a tracing spell. It was amazing the things Lyra could do when truly motivated, because she walked around for two days in that color refusing to change back knowing she would never find out who did it. On the third day, after listening to her fellow students giggle for three days straight as she passed, she finally found the spell and mastered it.

It had surprised her, considering it was a seventh year spell. Once she had placed the tracing spell on herself it had led her to Eddie Carmichael, a sixth year Ravenclaw. Lyra knew of him because he had received nine "O's" in his OWL year. That, of course, didn't stop Lyra from hexing him with the Hurling hex. Nor did it stop her from casting _Sornorus_ on him either. She had been curious what the effects of the Amplifying charm paired with the Hurling hex would be. The only thing it really did was make his puking noises extra loud much to his embarrassment.

She had finally gone to Madame Pomfrey after that, getting her skin changed back to its normal, pale hue. She had barked out, "Five points from Ravenclaw!" for good measure when Carmichael finally managed to get to the hospital wing. Madame Pomfrey had looked on with disapproval but Lyra could care less. He had crossed her for what she would make sure was the last time.

After that the students did not hex her. Ginny told her that the students viewed her as too tenacious, a dangerous creature that would bite back no matter what it was up against.

But then she caught Lee Jordan and a few of his friends attempting to set a niffler in Umbridge's room. Lyra had only given them a brief, pleased smirk before disappearing around the corner much to their confusion. It took her fellow students more than two weeks to realize she didn't use her Inquisitorial powers unless in the presence of either Umbridge, Flich, or her fellow squad members.

Draco and Pansy were converging on Ginny and Mary at the moment. Her friends were attempting to dress a statue of a knight in Umbridge-pink, feminine undergarments. Lyra's eyes widened slightly before screeching, "Fifty points from Gryffindor!"

They both jumped startled, and then when they realized who it was were ready to argue until Draco and Pansy began to laugh nastily. Mary and Ginny quieted, watching the two Slytherins nervously.

"Wonderful Lyra, if I don't say so myself. I think they deserve a little something extra, don't you?"

Lyra smirked. "Of course, Draco. WEASLEY, CALDWEATHER! FOLLOW ME!" she barked, not bothering to see if they were doing so.

"Why did you have to take away so many points?" Ginny asked sullenly once they were out of ear shot.

Lyra shrugged. "The cup doesn't mean anything anymore. The Slytherins take points away for any little thing. Sometimes there doesn't even have to be a reason. It's my own house I took points from, mind you."

"It's better than some strange punishment that she could come up with in that creative head of hers. Honestly, Carmichael's lucky that combined spell didn't make his barfing worse," Mary grumbled, stomping her feet all the way to the Gryffindor common room in a bad temper.

That was actually what Lyra had been aiming for when she had cursed the sixth year Ravenclaw. Too bad it didn't work out.

Umbridge had pulled something out of Mary that Lyra didn't think existed. Sure, Mary was sometimes sarcastic and enjoyed a good eye roll. But now she was doing _misdemeanors_. Mary had never so much as stepped a toe out of line before. Now her favorite past time was mastering what they should have been learning all along in Defense class and applying it to cause as much mischief as possible. In Mary's own words, "My threshold for bullshit has been reached."

That had marked the first day Lyra had ever heard Mary curse. If Umbridge wasn't somehow evicted out of Hogwarts by next year she was almost certain Mary would not be coming back for her fifth year. Mary cared about learning too much to do this again for a second year. Plus, they had OWL's next year.

The next few weeks things calmed down a bit, as the fifth and sixth years had to study for NEWTS and OWL's. Some of the younger students still tried to participate in their anarchy, but were usually stopped by the annoyed, grumbling older students who were non-stop studying and becoming surlier by the hour.

"Malfoy! Umbridge called upon us!" Crabbe huffed, racing past her. "We're to head over to her office." Lyra debated whether or not to run after him, but decided on a spritely walk. She wasn't going to make an appearance there looking anything except pristine. After all, she was a Malfoy.

Her stomach sank when she got there. A bunch of her fellow Gryffindor's had been rounded up, one of them being Ginny.

Lyra closed the door cautiously, glancing back and forth between Draco and Ginny. "What's going on?"

"Potter's really done it this time!" Draco said gleefully. "Umbridge has taken them out to the forbidden forest, something about a weapon of mass destruction that Dumbledore was going to use against the ministry."

Her eyes darted to Ginny and the other Gryfindors, along with the one lonely Ravenclaw. Of course Luna was here, she thought to herself, it was only fitting. Anything strange and unusual Luna was sure to be involved in. "How did these one's… get involved?"

"They were standing as look-out's. Longbottom was just being an idiot so we took him too."

The Slytherins burst into raucous laughter. Draco was casually sitting on the windowsill, throwing up an unknown wand. Probably either Hermione Granger's or Harry Potter's. Millicent Bulstrode was swinging Ginny around, attempting to stop the furious girl from kicking her shins. Luna was being held back by Pansy Parkinson. She didn't appear to perturbed one way or another.

Poor Neville was being sat on by Goyle.

Ginny's eye locked with hers and in that moment Lyra realized the red head had a plan. Lyra forced each taunt muscle in her body to relax, cracking a few joints before casually walking up to sit on top of Umbridge's putrefying pink kittened desk. She tossed one leg over the other, straightening her back. Immediately she noticed Neville's wand just out of reach. He was trying to grasp it but Goyle was too heavy to budge. At this point his face was a horrifying shade of red.

"Goyle," she said calmly. "Let up on Longbottom. Manslaughter would do you no good after getting charged of killing the last scion of House Longbottom."

Her brother snorted. "They might as well die off anyway. Look what's left of it." He pointed over towards the pitiful looking Neville.

But Goyle moved anyways. Longbottom didn't hesitate to grab his wand, shouting, " _Impedimenta!"_ freezing Goyle where he was attempting to get up from. Too bad it was poorly timed, as the lumbering Slytherin fell right back on top of poor Neville.

The other Slytherins were too startled to react, giving the rest of the Gryffindors the time to curse everyone. Her jaw dropped when Ginny cast a Bat-Bogey hex at her brother, taken aback.

Ginny slowly turned around, twisting her wand in her hand. Ginny's eyes begged for her to understand, to realize what she was trying to ask. They gestured towards the door, once, twice, and Lyra minutely shook her head.

Ginny's shoulders slumped down, defeated. It was the disappointment in Ginny's eyes that got her the most, the realization in them. Ginny understood, then, what it would be like to be on opposite sides of the war. She finally comprehended what Lyra had been attempting to get her to understand all along. There was no warning when the spell hit her, only a deep silence.

And Lyra's thoughts became no more.

* * *

Guest Comments:

Guest 1- Thank you!

Guest 2- You never know what's possible in the future for Lyra. ;)


	35. Chapter 35

Chapter 35

* * *

She awoke to grey. Dark shadows dancing between each rectangular, imperfect square. She blinked, attempting to rub the sleep out of her eyes.

"You're awake," a familiar voice called out. It sounded haggard, tired. Too unlike him.

She turned towards him. His arms were loosely crossed against his chest and his hair was untamed, something it never was. He was staring at the ground leaning against a nearby dresser in what Lyra finally realized was the infirmary. She tore her eyes away, glancing to the bed nearest her to see Goyle in it. His skin was covered with a horrid amount of painful looking boils.

She remembered then. She wasn't sure who cursed her, but she realized she didn't want to know. It was something that had to be done. She couldn't be the only one out of the Inquisitorial Squad to not get cursed. It would be too suspicious.

"You haven't heard yet, I suppose," he said, placing his hands in his pockets and staring out the barred window. He turned back around to watch her, holding her gaze. "Father is in Azkaban." A choked noise filtered out of his throat, similar to that of a beaten dog. He cleared it, blinking harshly before turning with his back towards her to look once again out the window.

Numbness crept through her, followed by disbelief. Draco couldn't be right. Father would never get caught. He was too smart for that, too powerful. He had connections.

But Draco was so sure.

 _You're nothing without your money._ Moody's voice sang in her head, remembering those horrible nights.

What if money didn't matter anymore?

"Here's the morning newspaper," he murmured, throwing it onto her bed.

In bold letters across the front page of _The Daily Prophet_ read, "HE-WHO-MUST-NOT-BE-NAMED RETURNS."

She took a guarded breath in, skimming the article before staring up at Draco pleadingly. She didn't know what she was asking for, but it made her heart feel like stone and her eyes water with un-spilled tears.

But she did know. She wanted him to fix it, even though she knew he couldn't. It would be a long time before Draco had their father's power, if he ever did.

She stood up, the crisp, white linen falling to the floor in a pool around her feet. She took an unsteady step towards Draco, then another, until she was directly behind him.

"Draco," she whispered hoarsely. He turned his head slightly towards her. She realized then that he had grown taller this year. Her nose was level with his chin. Draco watched her with a blank expression, before turning to look out the window. She stared at his back, watching each even breath he took, and wrapped her arms loosely around his waist, burying her face in the space between his shoulders. "We're going to be okay." She tightened her grip.

He took a shaky breath in, listening to her sniffle against him. His hands wrapped around her own, carefully prying them apart and holding one as he turned around to face her. He glanced around the room, taking in the sleeping Umbridge, Goyle, and scattering of Gryffindors. "What are we supposed to do?" he asked lowly in a frail voice.

"It's all going to be alright," was all she could say, burrowing into his chest. She wrapped her arms around him tightly and she felt him give a silent heave, placing his head in the crook of her neck as wetness fell upon her shoulder. "We're going to make it out of this. We're Malfoys, we always do."

His only response was clutching her tighter.

* * *

They were at a stand-still.

Ginny was watching her silently from her bed, packing each item with careful precision. Romilda had already finished and was staring emotionless at the wall. Mary had been a mess since the paper had come out, prone to tears at the drop of a quill.

Anger was in the red head's eyes. Those bright brown eyes stared her down in defiance. "You knew about him," she said finally, roughly shoving one of her vests into the corner of her trunk.

Lyra eyed her tiredly. "We all knew, except Mary of course."

"No, you _really_ knew."

Lyra grimaced, breaking eye contact. "What did you want me to do?"

"I don't know," she hissed. "Maybe tell someone about it?"

"How exactly was I supposed to do that," Lyra responded in irritation.

"All you had to say was, 'LOOK EVERYONE. VOLDEMORT'S BACK. HE'S STAYING AT MY HOUSE. MAYBE YOU SHOULD CHECK IT OUT.' Now someone is dead Lyra! Someone is dead because you were too afraid to say anything!"

"So I'm supposed to sell my family out?" she argued. "Have them go to Azkaban or get tortured by the Dark Lord? Well guess what Ginny? No! I'm not going to do that, nor would I ever! I don't know if family means anything to _you_ , but it means the world to me!"

Lyra angrily threw her makeup bag in the suitcase, marching into the bathroom to get her toothbrush and other morning items. When she came back into the room she took a deep breath in, dropping the rest of the items in the trunk and locking it shut. She stared up at the ceiling, blinking away tears. "I can't condemn my family," she said finally.

"Then you're going to kill mine."

Lyra flinched, staring at Ginny in surprise. She had calmed down marginally and was watching Lyra steadily.

Lyra's lips trembled. "Why would you ask something like this of me?"

She couldn't give her family up. She wasn't sure what planet Ginny's mind was on but that's not how it worked.

"I guess this is it then?"

"I guess so."

Ginny locked her trunk, levitating it out of the room. "I'll meet you two on the trolley," she mumbled to Mary and Romilda.

Romilda watched Ginny leave, staring confused between Lyra and the door. She visibly swallowed before hurrying off her bed to follow Ginny.

"I understand the predicament that you're in Lyra, I really do," Mary sighed tiredly, her eyes red from countless nights with lack of sleep and the daily tears that frequented her eyes. "But I can't help but feel angry. I'm sorry, but I can't help it."

The door clicked shut behind the muggleborn. Lyra sat there a moment, clenching her hands tightly, before letting out a scream and throwing her nearby mirror against the wall. She paced between the space of hers and Romilda's beds, then hovered her suit case and walked out the door.

On the outside she was calm, uncaring. She was what everyone expected her to be, what her father expected. But inside her emotions were at war with herself. It was a strange thing, to feel so fragile on the inside that a good knock on the outside could ruin her perfected mask. She detested this feeling of helplessness, of being alone.

"Don't fret, it will all be okay." Luna appeared by her side, her head tilted to the side dreamily.

"What? You don't hate me too?" she asked bitterly, unable to mask the anger and hurt in her voice.

Luna appeared taken aback. "Of course not." She became silent. "I was there at the ministry, you know."

"I do," Lyra confirmed warily.

"Ginny is angry. She's taking it out on you right now but she won't always feel that way… he fell through the veil. Sirius Black did. It's a good place, behind there."

Lyra stared at her, taken aback. "What veil?"

"The ministry has it. My mum is behind there too. You can go in there, but you can never come back."

Luna molded into the crowd, leaving Lyra more confused by Luna that she ever was before.

* * *

A/N: Whoever can guess why this story is called Behind the Veil will get cake and a chapter dedication! Haha I don't think it was possible to figure it out until this chapter.


	36. Chapter 36

Chapter 36

* * *

The days following the Hogwarts train were fragile and silent, the manor almost like a ghost town. While the Dark Lord and his followers used the East Wing, mother and Lyra stuck to the West. Draco was called on often in place of his father. At first Draco was unsettled, shaking and with fear evident in his eyes every time he opened that door and crossed the Ball Room to the other side. But now he was resigned. He appeared as if he had given up, and oftentimes she found him staring blankly at something that would normally not hold his attention. Like the portrait of Abraxas Malfoy, who stared down his aristocratic nose that neither Draco nor Lyra had inherited and whisper things to him. Or the blooming flowers in the garden, where the peacocks peacefully migrated to. Draco was lost to her, and there was nothing she could do about it.

Now more than ever she missed Colin, but he hated her. She was sure of it. He could only look at her in derision, and it was all her fault. She had chosen this path, and now she must bear the consequences.

She missed her father more than anything. He was a great strength in their family, and all of them were lost without him. She realized then losing their father was probably her brother's greatest fear.

Oftentimes she was sent to Flint Manor, sometimes for days. Lyra was certain it was because of some huge event happening in the manor. Draco would whisper to mother and then mother would go mad, muttering to Lyra that she had to leave soon. That it was all for the better and it was safer this way. Lyra never learned why she had to disappear during these times, neither Draco nor mother would explain to her. A part of her thought it was better this way too, but her curiosity never stopped her from asking.

"Come here sweet," her mother said after pulling her out of the fire and patting off a few stray ashes. "Your brother is going to be tired the next few days. You must leave him be and let him rest."

"What happened?" she whispered, silently watching her mother's nervous habit of fixing things that weren't broken.

Mother paused, staring out the imposing, darkly draped window before going back to muttering spells under her breath. "Nothing you have to worry about, love. Everything is alright."

Lyra dropped her bag on the floor. "But it's not alright."

The older, elegant but frazzled, blonde swallowed thickly. "No, it isn't. But we must pretend it is."

Lyra silently watched her mother.

"Why have I not met Aunt Bellatrix?"

Her mother took a deep breath in, taken aback. Rounded eyes stared at Lyra, almost identical to her own. "Bella is not… what she used to be. Azkaban, it…" she trailed off, shaking her head and grabbing Lyra's dropped bag. "Let's go. You should get situated in your room."

They walked down the hallway, her mother's heels clacking noisily. She passed Draco's door that was firmly shut, wishing more than anything to go in there. But she knew mother couldn't be near when she did. It would only disturb her, and mother was having a rough time already.

Mother carefully placed her bag on the sofa, wordlessly directing her clothing and random accessories to the correct spot and then tossing Lyra's petite trunk in the closet. Her mother wrapped her arms tightly around Lyra, breathing her in and kissing her forehead. "I love you Lyra, I need you to stay safe. Do you understand?"

Lyra bent her neck back slightly to be able to look in her mother's eyes. "Yes."

Her mother stared down at her, expression blank, before nodding. Mother rubbed her shoulder, placed another kiss on her brow, and walked out the room.

Lyra stood silently, waiting for the sufficient amount of time before opening the door herself and sneaking to Draco's. It was dark, the curtains had been pulled shut so that only a sliver of moonlight came through.

"Draco?" she whispered, blinking harshly as she attempted to adjust to the lack of light. "Draco, are you okay?"

No one answered her, but she heard him shift in his bed. She pulled the candle off the wall, closing the door tightly behind her. Lyra's bare feet padded across the illuminated, cherry wood flooring. It felt like it took ages to finally reach his bed, but it was really only a few seconds.

"Draco?"

His face was pale, paler than usual, and pained. A cold sweat was upon his brow and she almost dropped her candle in shock. "Draco, what happened? Are you sick?"

He opened slated grey eyes to look up at her, then shifted to the other side of the bed. "Go away," he muttered.

She sat down on the silky sheets, placing the candle on the nearby dresser. "Tell me what happened."

At first it seemed as if he would not answer. He was so silent, so unmovable. But then he shifted towards her, watching her eerily still, and pulled the blankets down.

Her breath hitched in her throat. He watched her carefully for her reaction, so she couldn't show what she really felt. He needed someone strong, someone to help him forget how horrible things were right now.

So she didn't stare. She simply pulled the covers over them both, snuggling closer into her brother's side. She couldn't remember ever doing this before. When they were young sometimes they would get tired and fall asleep on the couch together, but never had they done anything like this.

* * *

Lyra's arm wrapped around Draco's as they walked through the garden. It was a beautiful day out, warm and inviting. She decided to take Draco out for the day, he had been looking horrid and a bit of sun would do him well.

"What is Aunt Bella like?"

Draco's face scrunched up unhappily. "She's cracked, bleeding mad."

Lyra let out a breath of disappointment. She had heard the rumors, what the elder Flint had told her people in the betting ring had said, but she had hoped they had been untrue. Her family was shrinking. The Blacks had become extinct. Once mother and her sisters passed they would be no more. The Malfoys were in shambles. Her father was in prison, she was to marry a Flint. Draco was all that was left. All they had was each other.

"What does she do?"

"She's the Dark Lord's lap dog, obsessive… you'd have to see it to understand," he said unsure.

Lyra hoped she never would.

"Mum always cries," she whispered. "She tries to hide it, but she's not very successful." Mother's eyes were often red-rimmed, and she spent long periods of time in her room alone.

"She visited father."

Lyra's brows rose. No one ever used to visit people in Azkaban, but now that the dementors were gone….

"Did you go?"

"Yes."

"How was he?"

Draco frowned, reaching up above them to take a dangling peach. He grabbed one more, handing it to her before taking a bite himself. "Like mother."

Lyra sighed, nibbling on the outside of her fruit.

"I mean, he was trying. I could tell but, you know, he's in Azkaban. It does strange things to a person."

Lyra's brows rose, and she realized for the first time in her life that Draco finally knew their father was fallible and liable to mistakes. It had taken him much longer than her, and only strenuous circumstances had made it apparent for him. She patted him on the shoulder, giving him a soft smile.

"I believe in you."

She had to in order for them to make it out of this. He had a task, which she didn't exactly know what it was but knew he had to do it. She had been wrong about the Dark Lord taking people who weren't even out of school. He had taken Draco, branded him as his own, and given him what Lyra would tell by the fright in his eyes was an almost impossible mission. He couldn't tell her what it was, had been commanded to silence of it.

Lyra knew she didn't want to know anyways. It was better for her, as selfish as it was to say. She would help Draco whatever way she could and support him. He needed her, and she was only glad to assist.

The Dark Lord had left her alone since that fateful night. She couldn't bring herself to relax, she was always feeling unease, paranoia. She was prone to trembles, much like her brother and mother. Draco promised the Dark Lord was working on getting their father out, but it couldn't be soon enough. Two months had passed and she was still without him.

"It's almost time to go back to Hogwarts," he said, eyes squinting in the light.

Lyra nodded. It was. Hogwarts was sure to be different this year. Lyra almost didn't see a point in going back since whatever grades she got would no longer matter and she had lost just about everything enjoyable about the school, but she knew Draco needed her.

So she would go.

* * *

Guest Comments:

Allie- Welcome back! Glad you got wifi again! My life sucks without it haha I feel the same way about Umbridge


	37. Chapter 37

Chapter 37

* * *

This year she didn't bother to search for Ginny, Romilda, and Mary. She followed Draco, going into the nearby compartment where Tracy Davis and Rachel Bulstrode sat. It was where she had always belonged but never wanted to.

But this was what Hogwarts held for her now.

Ginny and Mary hated her, and she couldn't blame Romilda for siding with them. Not when her father was a muggle and Romilda's mother was pureblood. It had placed a target on their backs. Romilda's mother had been a part of the McDougal family. Her cousin, Isobel McDougal, went to school with them. But the girl had steadfast ignored Romilda. Acting as if she wasn't even there. She was two years above them and everything a pureblood should be. She was a Ravenclaw, quite strange but still acceptable. Very clever and blaséd about most things, except when it came to her roots.

Romilda liked to pretend Isobel didn't exist.

It was easier that way.

The train ride to Hogwarts had never been so boring. Tracy Davis and Rachel Bulstrode gossiped about people the entire time. Part of the ride Lyra had fallen asleep, and had woken up with just enough time to change her clothes.

After dinner she headed up to her room early, deciding to get a head start on unpacking her clothes. Her plan of action was to ignore her old friends if she saw them. They were sure to do the same, except Ginny maybe. Sometimes Ginny enjoyed a good fight or two. She was too hot headed for her own good at times.

She'd almost finished by the time they got to the dorms. They were much quieter than usual, and had gone completely silent upon seeing her on the floor placing her undergarments in the top drawer. Lyra didn't dare look at them, and after a moment they got their bearings and walked the rest of the way into the dormitory. Ginny remained silent, but Mary and Romilda began whispering to each other.

"I shouldn't have taken it out on you."

Mary and Romilda became mute. Lyra remained tensed, unable to turn around.

"I was angry, and hurt. I just- you were there so I blamed you," Ginny said with a soft laugh that lacked amusement. "I saw that blonde hair and Malfoy name and suddenly you became the enemy, and I'm sorry."

Lyra turned slightly, placing a stray hair behind her ear. "I'm sorry too."

Ginny nodded, unpacking some of the things from her trunk. "But that still doesn't change some things. We're still on different sides of this war."

Lyra stood up, turning to sit down on her bed with crossed knees.

"You love your family, and that's understandable. I don't expect you to rat them out, but things can't go back to the way they used to be either," Ginny continued.

"I understand," Lyra whispered.

"I-" Ginny trailed off wordlessly. "Things are really complicated right now."

A pregnant pause sat between them, only disturbed by Romilda.

"I'm going to try out for the Quidditch team this year."

Mary snorted. "But you're rubbish at Quidditch."

"Quidditch isn't what I'm after, if you catch my drift." Romilda rolled her brows suggestively, making all of them laugh.

* * *

The next day was boring, if a bit stressful. Filled with teachers telling them how tough their OWLs would be and what was expected of them. It took Lyra almost the entire day to realize it didn't really matter what she got. Her "career path" was already chosen. More like preordained. She would try to get good grades, but she wouldn't worry herself silly over them. It was pointless.

She noticed Draco in the library at odd hours, requesting for everyone to leave him alone so he could do his research. It wasn't like him to study so much, but then when the Dark Lord demands something of a person, he or she doesn't ask themselves how much in character it is for them to do that task: they simply do it. His word was law, and that's all there was to it.

Colin watched her. He didn't appear to be angry with her anymore. She wasn't sure what he felt, but that hate would have been better for him. He would have stayed away with it. There would be no chance of his feelings remaining then.

A few days later he began gesturing for her to follow him. She astutely ignored him. It was for his own good, she reasoned. She would avoid Colin, keep away from him. Perhaps he would move on and find a nice, uncomplicated girl that he could be with.

It would hurt so much to see that, but at least that would mean she wouldn't pain him as well.

Night was when she shed her tears. She worried about her father and how he was doing, what would happen to Draco if he failed his task. She mourned the loss of her friends. They didn't ignore her anymore, but they had lost that closeness. Now they were more like acquaintances, and she wasn't sure if that hurt more than their scorn.

She thought about Colin.

How much she missed his lips and his eye smiles. How carefree and happy he was, even all the photographs he used to take of her. It would feel better to move on, that lump in her chest that came when the moon was high would vanish and she would be happier for it.

But she couldn't bring herself to let go.

She knew Colin was tenacious. He would corner her and eventually get what he wanted out of her. But she had to prolong that for as long as possible. He was always so convincing, and she was never very strong when it came to him. He only had to demand it and she would give.

Almost two weeks into the trimester Lyra's prophecy came true.

"What are… hmmf!" A hand covered her mouth, dragging her into a near class room. The hands let her go hastily and she darted for her wand. "Who do you think you're …."

Her wand went limp in her hand as she stared at the boy she had taken the time to memorize all last year. He was watching her with a guilty expression on his face, scuffing his shoes awkwardly.

"I needed to talk to you," he said once he cleared his throat.

"You- you can't just kidnap me," she said as soon as she got her bearings. She placed her wand back in its holster, fixing her bag. "I have to go."

He stepped resolutely in front of the door, a stubborn look upon his face. "Not until I get out what I need to." When she went to disagree with him, he continued, "I deserve that much."

She winced, taking a step back and bumping into the back of a chair.

"I have to talk to you Lyra. You, you know I care about you."

"You shouldn't," Lyra interrupted in an even tone.

"I do though. I care about you so much," he said, his eyes pleading with hers. "You never truly explained why, why," he trailed off wordlessly.

"Why I broke up with you?" She shook her head. "Colin, I'm betrothed. That is not changing."

"Then tell me you love him as much as you love me. Tell me that you love him at least half as much as I do you and I'll back off," he said stubbornly.

She closed her eyes, attempting to vanish the tears swelling in her eyes. "Merlin, not everything is about love Colin! Sometimes it takes a little more than that!"

"No it doesn't! You love me and I love you! That's all that should matter!"

"I'm sorry Colin, okay? Is that what you want to hear? I'm sorry! I should have never done this with you. I was… weak willed. I wanted more than I could have, and every day I knew I should end it with you but I never could bring myself to do it."

"And what does that tell you Lyra?" he asked, taking a step forward and taking her hands in his. "What do you think that means? That what we have isn't important? Lyra, I'll fight for you."

"I know you will, but that's not what you need." It wasn't what they could afford, not with the Dark Lord.

His hands clenched around hers and then let her loose. Colin paced in front of her, rubbing at his chin in thought. He took a deep breath in, running his hands through his hair in frustration before turning back to her. "Do you know the exact moment when I began to think I might actually have a chance with you? It was at the Gryffindor common room, after Harry had won the second task. There was this look you gave me… I had to take a picture of it so that later on I could prove to myself I wasn't imagining it."

She winced. She remembered that moment too, how her belly had filled with warmth and her heart had fluttered. She hadn't realized what it was then, or perhaps she had been in denial about it.

"I do care about you Colin, but that isn't enough. If you haven't realized it yet a war is looming in on us. We can't… it would never work. If they didn't- if they don't hurt me they would definitely hurt you. You should forget me, don't remember a single thing about me. It's for the best," she said roughly.

He winced, the wounded expression piercing her in a way she could only blame herself for. "But I could never forget you."

Their eyes held, and in that moment they understood each other in a way they never had before. Colin saw that no matter what he said she would go through with her marriage with Flint, and Lyra realized that even the harshest of words would not deter his feelings. He had given his heart to her, and he only asked that she didn't destroy it.

The only thing she could do was give him hers.

* * *

Today felt a bit different than most, more hopeful, but only because it was her birthday. It couldn't be too horrible, could it?

After getting dressed Romilda had given Lyra a jar of her favorite candy, Sour Apple Bites. Mary had bought her a book on Charms, which Lyra would at least peruse out of curiosity. Ginny had pulled her aside, slipping Lyra a beaded bracelet telling her that a protection spell was laced into it. Lyra had thanked her immensely, but Ginny was careful to make clear only simple spells would be repelled, such as malicious pranks or a weak curse.

When she sat down for breakfast she received an owl from her mother, filled with beauty spells and potions. Lyra had grinned, sending a short letter expressing her thanks. These spells were more complicated, and some of the spells she had never heard of. She was exited to begin experimenting with her new items.

Draco had been sweet enough to give her a bouquet of flowers, an embarrassed blush burning through his cheeks as he did. Lyra didn't quite have a favorite plant, but all of the one's he had given her were simply stunning. She made sure to charm the flowers to whither slowly after she had placed them on her dresser.

After doing a bit of light reading from the book her mother had given her she had to go to charms. Unfortunately, Luna was not in this class, the Hufflepuffs were. So she was alone for it, stuck watching her friends interact with one another.

It wasn't until night fell that she received an owl from Marcus. A letter and a gift. Lyra was impatient, so she opened the present first. It was a beautiful sapphire bracelet with diamonds inlaid in it. She had stared at it in a moment of disbelief. He had never bought her something like that before. It was always candy, little knick-nacks; the occasional book. Jewelry was a first, and instead of feeling happiness a sense of perverse dread spread through her dizzily. She unfolded the letter, patting the crinkles out of it.

 _My Dearest Lyra,_

 _You are now sixteen. Only a year from now you will be an adult, and it has been quite a journey. I saw this piece of jewelry and thought of you and your eyes. They shine just like yours do, and it was only fitting._

 _You will be happy to know I've finally made a decision. You asked me this summer if I planned on joining_ his _pledge, and I am proud to inform you that I, let us say, have become_ his _full-fledged employee…_

The letter dipped out of her hand, twirling in tight circles until it hit the floor in a clash of white.

* * *

A/N: I totally planned on updating yesterday but ended up working longer than expected, cooking dinner, and then watching a show with my roommate. By that time it was already eleven, but at least it's getting out today!

Guest Comments:

Allie- Thanks! ^_^

Guest 1- Haha I know I would have by now. She's already gotten pretty close. Actually, she did snap once already.

Guest 2- Yes, no, no! :P


	38. Chapter 38

Chapter 38

* * *

She had secluded herself from everyone. She didn't know what to think anymore, what to do.

Marcus Flint was a Death Eater.

The words pained her so much, but they were true. She sent a letter back congratulating him, thanking him for the exquisite gift. She really didn't want to wear it, she knew what it represented. But it was so beautiful….

She seemed to have many weaknesses.

Thankfully, Colin had left her alone. He had since they held their last conversation. He finally understood what she had been trying to say all along. She wasn't sure if he accepted it, but for now he was giving her the space she desperately needed.

Katie Bell was the talk of the school. According to Romilda, Harry Potter had been there when Katie opened the cursed piece of jewelry. Katie Bell was a half-blood with what Lyra was almost certain were half-blood parents on both sides. There was nothing on the surface that would warrant an attack on her. It had the work of Death Eaters written all over it, considering it was a piece of jewelry inhibited with dark and ancient magic.

Lyra didn't like to think about it too much. The attacks were getting more blatant, and muggles were being attacked quite often. _The Daily Prophet_ reported it enough. Every week there was a new one making headlines.

Romilda Vane and her flock of Harry Potter club friends were up to something, Lyra could tell. Every time someone came anywhere near them they would become silent, hiding coverless books beneath robes and papers. They would go back to whatever they were planning as soon as the person was a safe distance away.

Romilda had been odd lately, even for her. She was withdrawn, quiet, and more importantly not as clueless. She appeared to see too much these days, and that worried Lyra more than anything. Romilda didn't say anything about it, but Lyra could read between the lines. Hopefully Ginny would step in soon. She normally did, but then again Ginny was so wrapped up in Dean Thomas that she didn't notice much of anything lately.

"Your mother's owl is coming," Tracy observed.

Lyra gave her a soft nod, eyes shooting into the crowd of owls pelting down on them. The owl landed elegantly on the table, giving her a low, questioning hoot. Lyra cut up a piece of sausage, placing it in front of the bird. It reached down delicately to nibbling on the proffered meat, finally dropping the scroll.

 _My Beautiful Daughter,_

 _I know I do not express it often, but I love you so very much. Everything I do is with the highest hopes that it is the best for you. Your pending marriage to Marcus Flint is one such thing. He is a good man, a very acceptable choice. He will always provide and take care of you. I have no worries about that. With this in mind, after corresponding with your father we have agreed to have you marriage moved up…._

Her eyes blurred. She re-read the sentence, clutching the letter in tightened fists.

 _…_ _we have agreed to have your marriage moved up to this Christmas Break. I know you were hoping for more time, but we feel this is for the best._

She took a shaky break in, reading the letter once again in disbelief. They had to mean next year during Christmas. It was a simple grammatical error. Lyra wasn't even seventeen yet. They wouldn't do that to her.

 _On December 20th you shall marry the Flint boy. Do not fret, your mother will work everything out for you, and next Hogsmeade trip we can go in search of a nice pair of wedding robes for you to wear. Only the best. I hope you can one day understand our decision. I end this letter with much love for you, never doubt that._

 _Love always,_

 _Mother_

She stared wordlessly at her mother's small, elegant scrawl. She tightened her fist until the paper ripped, and the feeling of helplessness made her want to scream and tremble all at once. She decided instead to shred her mother's carefully penned letter, gathering all the pieces up and marching further down the table where she threw them as hard as she could at Draco.

He blinked, a piece of paper dangling off his eyelashes before he brought a poised hand up to wipe it away. "To what do I owe this lovely visit, dear sister?"

"You knew."

He arched a questioning brow. "About what?"

"Mother's plan. Mother and father's plan to marry me off this Yule. You knew."

"Oh, that." He dropped a spoonful of sugar into his oatmeal. "Yes, I did."

She wanted to pummel him with her fist, take all her anger out on him. But she managed to control herself and demanded, "Do you agree?"

He gave a steady nod. "Yes."

She felt breathless all at once. She felt betrayed. She thought he would be able to understand her point of view. It wasn't fair, none of it was. Not only had she lost just about everything that had ever meant something to her, but she was being married off much sooner than she had ever imagined. It wasn't fair, and Lyra didn't care anymore. She didn't care about how she should wait until they were alone to discuss this, away from prying eyes and ears. She didn't concern herself about the fact that she was making a scene, appearing disgraceful and like a heathen as her mother would describe it.

She didn't care anymore.

"What do you mean you knew? I'm barely sixteen! How can you agree with this?" she asked incredulous.

Draco shrugged, eyes darting nervously to their growing audience. "You're very mature for your age." He paused, looking her over. "At least you usually are."

Her body shook with rage. "Draco!"

"Don't make a scene," he muttered, glaring at her.

Lyra laughed mockingly, the bitterness clear in her voice. "You think I care about appearances! It's always about appearances! I'm sick of it. I'm sick of everything!"

Draco finally lost patience with her, standing up to his full height towering over her with a snarl on his face. "If I had a choice between what mother and father have chosen for you and what I have to do, I'd choose your fate in a heartbeat."

His words pulled the breath out of her lungs. All at once the fury and rage and scorn abated until only defeat was left. "Why can't you ever be on my side?"

He calmly reached down to finish the rest of his oatmeal, shouldering his backpack before bringing his attention back to her. "Why can't you see that I am?"

"Miss Malfoy, that's quite enough of this little display," Professor McGonagall reprimanded. But all Lyra could see was her brother's back as he walked out of the Great Hall.

All of her resentment built up once more and she snarled at McGonagall. "You shut up you old hag! Draco, you come back here!"

There were several gasps around her, and Lyra could hear the professor's startled, indignant breaths behind her. She hurried out the door, searching for Draco. Possibly the only person who could understand this situation at all. "Draco!" she called out. "Draco! Come back right this instance!"

She couldn't see him anywhere, no matter which way she turned. "Miss Malfoy! Detention!" McGonagall called out, marching over to where she stood. "Do you think-"

Lyra ceased to listen. As if some teacher grumbling about something as supercilious as detention would stir her. She knew at once she had to get out of here. She had to leave, get away from everyone before she did something drastic.

Her heels clipped in the hallways as she strode to the great doors and pushed them open, striding over to the elegant black, metal fence that surrounded the Hogwarts perimeter. Currently it was guarded by Aurors. It had been that way since the beginning of this year when people started taking the threat of the Dark Lord seriously.

"I'm sorry Miss, but we can't let you go," one of them said stubbornly, wrapping a hand around her upper arm.

"You will unhand me," she hissed, violently ripping her arm out of his grasp. She was certain it hurt her more than it hurt him to do it, but that didn't particularly matter to her at this moment. "Move. You will move."

"I'm sorry Miss… I can tell you're having a bad day, but it's not safe for you out there. Let us do our job," the other pleaded with her.

She grinded her teeth, watching them deathly still. She couldn't take it anymore. She screeched as loud as she could, pulling off one of her heels and attempting to hit one of them with it. It only filled her with more ire when she missed, and the other shoe soon followed. "You will let me leave! I am from the ancient House of Malfoy and you are nothing! Nothing! Nothing! Nothing! I could _destroy_ you!"

She could hear McGonagall behind her, but Lyra's own voice drowned out anything she may be saying.

"Let her go," a wizened, but strong voice said behind her. Despite its lower volume she could make it out clearly and became subdued. Lyra turned around, revealing the least likely person she expected: Albus Dumbledore.

"But Dumbledore," they went to argue, "it's not safe."

"She will be fine," he said certainly, holding her gaze. "Let her pass."

They were all silent, and for one horrible moment Lyra thought perhaps the Aurors wouldn't listen. But then there was a click, and the creak of metal behind her and she did not look back as she walked away.

She made her way barefoot and shaking to the Hog's Head and realized after coming in the building that she had no money on her. She rubbed her arms to get some warmth in them, eyeing the fireplace and well-stocked Floo powder. Her hand trembled as she reached into the glowing green powder, clenching her fist in it and throwing it in the fire once she got her nerve.

That dizzying feeling of weightlessness entered her. The warmth developed around her, and then just as suddenly it began it was over and she was spit out on a foreign rug next to an unfamiliar vase filled with hydrangeas. The air was warm, despite the early frost she could see out the window. As she stood up her head bumped the mantle place, pulling a wince out of her and forcing a porcelain figurine to crash onto the floor. She could hear footsteps upstairs, and a feminine voice call out to ask who it was.

A sense of doubt filled her. She wasn't sure what she was thinking doing this. That she would be welcomed with opened arms? Lyra had made dumb decisions before, but never one as horrible as this one. She hurried to grab another handful of Floo, stretching her arm back to throw it in.

"Who is it?"

She took an unsuspecting breath in, the powder falling out of her hand and onto the floor.

"Drop your wand. I know fifty-seven ways to curse you at this very moment," the person demanded in a stubborn voice, unshaken.

Lyra slowly reached into her pocket, dropping her wand and listening to it clack noisily on the floor before kicking it away.

"Now turn around."

She did so gradually, not wanting to alarm the person.

As Lyra slowly came into view, so did the person across the room holding the wand. The woman's eyes widened as she looked at Lyra, recognition lit in her eyes. It was the same for Lyra.

This woman very much so looked like Aunt Bella. But a kinder version, softer around the edges, with lighter brown hair than the pictures depicting her other aunt showed.

"Lyra? Lyra Malfoy? That can't be you, can it?"

Lyra stared wide eyed at the woman, swallowing thickly before giving an uneven, graceless nod.

Aunt Andromeda's wand slowly dropped and she let out a sigh. "Sweet heart, what happened to you? You look like you've been trudging through the bog infested amazon. I know what it looks like. Trust me, I've done it myself."

It was all it took for the tears to start.

* * *

Guest Comments:

Guest- You just went on a tangent on Voldemort haha but it is all true. I don't think hiding from Voldemort would work either, considering he was able to take over the ministry relatively easily. The Malfoy's would have been found easily, and if they had to live in squalor they would not have lasted. Perhaps Draco and Lyra, but not Lucius. Thank you for reviewing! I enjoyed reading the two reviews you left me!


	39. Chapter 39

Chapter 39

* * *

Lyra clutched a warm cup of tea in her hands, blowing surreptitiously against the surface created ripples that undulated evenly to the edge. It was silent. After Lyra had burst into tears Aunt Andromeda had scooted her into the kitchen with small talk. Now that Lyra had calmed down her aunt watched her, equivalent amounts of curiosity and uncertainty shining through.

"How do you know where I live?" her aunt inquired, head tilted in question.

Lyra hurried to drop her gaze, muttering, "Ginny Weasley."

Rueful amusement tilted Andromeda's lips and she shook her curls. "That girl certainly has a mouth on her."

"If it's not okay for me to be here I'll leave," Lyra answered nervously.

Her aunt brushed her off. "No, it's fine. Completely okay."

Lyra bit down hard on her cheek, frowning at the table.

"Does your mother ever speak about me?"

"Not really… it was hard for me to find out anything about you. I had to search years just to find your name."

Andomeda's brows rose in surprise. "Why were you searching for me?"

"Well, because… you're my aunt. I wanted to know you, wanted to know more about you," Lyra mumbled.

"But obviously your parents don't agree with that. If Cissy is anything like she was twenty-six years ago it's like pulling teeth to speak about me," she said with fondness. "What made you choose to come here and risk so much on your part?"

And then everything spilled out of her. About her friends, and what Lyra truly felt. Her ideals and how they did not align with her family's beliefs. Colin, how much she loved him; and then finally she got to Marcus Flint and her pending marriage which had spurred her quite embarrassing outburst. She wouldn't even be able to do damage control on that.

"Well sweetheart, Merlin knows you've been through hell."

Lyra let out a choked laugh edged with hysteria.

"So… you've come here for answers," Andromeda said firmly. "You want someone's opinion that's been in a similar position as you."

Lyra nodded hastily, watching her aunt with hope. "How did you decide? I just… this is all so hard. I love my family, and I love my friends and Colin. I hate having to choose between them."

"My decision certainly wasn't easy. I thought over a year about it. I was even betrothed like you, to one of the Lestrange brothers. Bella married him instead after the pact was broken and I was blasted off the family tree."

"Who was Aunt Bella going to marry before?"

"Oh," her aunt sighed with a soft laugh interlaced with past memories. "They had such hope for her. She was so strong, so intelligent. Bella was a much more talented witch than Cissy and I. Our parents had opened the world for Bella. They had given her something sacred: a choice. They had three daughters, and one was a prodigy. Bella had always been a bit unstable. Mother was similar in personality to Bella, so my parents saw nothing wrong with her." She breathed out, frowning. "But when I broke my engagement with Rodolphus, Bella stepped up. The Lestrange's had felt slighted, so Bella married to keep the peace. She wasn't always so horrible, so deranged. She used to have her good moments," she trailed off, lost in thought.

"How did you choose to go through with it? To run away when so much rested upon you?"

Her aunt shrugged. "The war was over. I was tired of pretending to be a good little pureblood. I wanted happiness, and I knew that I'd never be happier than I would be with Ted." Andromeda smiled serenely, and Lyra could still see the love in her eyes for her husband. Lyra could tell Aunt Andromeda would never question whether she had made the wrong choice, something Lyra worried about constantly.

"But _how_ ," Lyra stressed, becoming frustrated with herself. Her aunt stared at her steadily from across the table. She reached over for some sugar, stirring it in her tea cup before bringing her attention back to Lyra.

"You must choose," Andromeda said finally. "Which matters more to you? Family or love? What your parents think versus your own values in life. If you came here hoping I would make the choice for you, you will be sorely disappointed."

Lyra regarded her quietly.

"What made you choose him? What was the turning point?"

"I couldn't live with someone who wished to kill the very person I cared for the most. I think… that you and I are a bit different. I was raised differently than you, I can tell. Cissy was always softer than either of us, worrying about even the smallest of creatures. Mother ripped that out of her," Andromeda said thoughtfully, fingers tapping on the porcelain cup in her hand. " _Avada Kevadra_ enough animals in front of a person and they tend to distance themselves from such connections."

" _What?_ " Lyra burst incredulously. " _Why would grandmother do that?_ "

"Mother was very cold. She gave us affection, but her heart was not in it. I remember mother once tried to beat it out of Cissy, but gave up on that venture when father got involved. He said it wasn't appropriate and Cissy needed to be unspoiled and without scars for her future husband." She turned to Lyra. "You love your parents, I can see it in your eyes. No, your choice is much harder than mine. I only lost Cissy. I had long given up on Bella by that time. You stand to lose everything."

"Father likes to act like he doesn't care, but he really does. Everyone thinks father is completely horrible, but he's not really that way."

Andromeda smiled. "I always knew Narcissa would make a great mother. It took much training for her to be presentable to pureblood society. Cissy wasn't allowed to even leave the Black home until she was eleven. Mother was too embarrassed, she would lock Cissy up when company came over until Cissy was ten. She was forced to stay in her room unless her appearance was a must when company were over." Lyra couldn't picture that. Mother was always so perfectly controlled, even in the worst situations. Hearing this part of mother was like listening to a memory about an entirely different person. Lyra was certainly glad she hadn't been soft as a child. She wasn't sure what her mother would have done to get it out of Lyra but it was sure to not have been good.

Lyra blinked tearfully. "Mum always seems so tired, but she does love us."

"That she does," her aunt agreed, raising her cup in a silent toast. "You seem like you've settled, although I do wonder how you got off school premises."

"Dumbledore let me go."

Aunt Andromeda's eyes widened but she said nothing, changing the subject. "If I know Cissy at all, she wasn't happy giving you to Flint so early. There's a reason, I know it."

"She told me there was, I just… I'm not ready for that step," she murmured.

"Most aren't at your age. I'd been in love with Ted for four years before I decided to elope. It was very hard keeping it a secret after Hogwarts, but he believed in me and our time finally came."

Lyra didn't have four years to make a choice. She had precisely two months.

"I, I think you've helped me with my decision."

Her aunt stood up, the wooden chair scratching against the tiled floor. "I'm glad I have." She walked Lyra to the fireplace, pulling her into a tight hug. "If you ever choose this side, you're always welcome here. Don't think you'll have nowhere to go." She kissed Lyra's forehead. "Take care of yourself. I'd say don't forget to write, but during these times that may be dangerous."

Lyra wrapped her arms tightly around her aunt, missing all the times that she could have been spending time with her if it wasn't for all these pureblood ideals passed from generation to generation.

"You're my favorite aunt," Lyra said as a farewell.

Her aunt chuckled, pulling back from her and shaking her mess of curls. "I wish you only good things Lyra, and above else be careful."

"I will," she promised, throwing the Floo powder into the fire and landing in the Hog's Head a few moments later.

She was dreading going back to Hogwarts and realized she would have to come up with where she was while off the premises if her mother had been contacted. Looking at the time she noticed with a sinking feeling she had missed all her classes that day. She was supposed to have a test today in Transfiguration. Now she wasn't sure what would happen. To make things worse she had called Professor McGonagall a hag. The scale was certainly not tipping in her favor.

If she hurried she would be able to make it to her last class. With this in mind she practically sprinted to Professor Slughorn's room, blushing as everyone's attention focused on her. She realized she hadn't looked in a mirror in hours, and didn't think to do so when racing to get her things from the Gryffindor tower. She sunk low in her chair, refusing to meet anyone's gaze. Slughorn appeared taken aback at seeing her, but continued to give his little speech before sending them off to finish their potion.

By the time she was finished she was certain she looked even worse than before. Her hair was lying at odd angles, some strands going opposite ways, and perspiration sat on her forehead which, no matter how many times she wiped away with the corner of her sleeve always appeared again.

She finished just as Slughorn called class to a close, dropping the sludgy liquid into a vile and bringing it up front. Professor Slughorn cleared his throat when he saw her.

"I was told by Dumbledore to send you his way if you attended class."

She bit down on her cheek unhappily, giving him a nod to show she heard and heading back to her table to gather her things. Ginny, Romilda, and Mary were watching her curiously, but she ignored them. She couldn't talk about it right now; it was too fresh in her mind and she knew tears would be summoned the minute she opened her mouth and shared. She didn't want any condolences or pitied looks, nor did she want to hear about how she should stick up for herself and if her parents really cared they would give her freedom of choice.

Sometimes people just didn't understand what that really meant for her.

She was hoping that the gargoyles would not let her pass, but to her dismay they didn't even require her to give a password. She forced herself to straighten her posture. She may look like a complete train wreck but she would not be passive and lie down. She had the right to keep everything that had happened that day to herself.

"Miss Malfoy, would you like a lemon drop? I find them to be very beneficial on trying days such as these," Professor Dumbledore asked congenially.

"No thank you," she murmured, sitting down with her back straight and body tensed. She wiped her hand across her face again, attempting to get some semblance of order across her features. Her mother would be at a complete loss if she saw what Lyra looked like at this moment, not that her mother's opinion was very high on her list at this trying time.

She stared at all the knick-knacks covering almost every inch of his office. What wasn't covered in useless items was covered by portraits. "I'm afraid all of my trinkets are very distracting," Dumbledore commented with a wink. "Even I find myself skiving off to watch them." His eyes twinkled merrily. "Your great-great grandfather was a headmaster here in his time. I find his advice very insightful."

"Don't lie Dumbledore," a craggy voice called out from one of the corners of the room. "You find me useless! I hated teaching almost as much as I hate hanging on this damned wall!"

"Oh, Phineas," the current headmaster said gravely. "I would never think such a thing. You always have such wonderful opinions."

The portrait hmmf'ed, crossing his arms and turning away.

"My mother told me that someone in our family was a headmaster. I learned that just before coming to Hogwarts." She frowned at him, her face working its way up to a glare. "I know what you're doing, and it's not working." He was trying to disarm her, get her off her guard. She would not fall for it.

"My dear, I'm not sure what you think I'm trying to do but I'm almost certain it's not that." He then made the most supercilious, undignified face she'd ever seen on a man of his prestige. It disappeared so quickly that Lyra was almost hesitant to say she even saw it.

"You're going to ask me where I went, and I'm not going to tell you."

"Was I?" he asked distractedly, organizing a mound of paperwork sitting on his desk. It almost defied the laws of gravity. In fact, she was most certain that it did. A bit of magic _had_ to be laced in it to stay at that particular height and angle. It was practically ready to topple over.

"Yes," Lyra said certainly. "Then you were going to ask what happened to make me so upset at breakfast, which I will not answer either."

"Truly?" he commented lightly with a wink.

Honestly, she knew the headmaster was mad but she didn't realize it was _this_ bad.

She stilled, a stray thought coming to her.

Did getting married mean no more Hogwarts? Was she not to return after Christmas break?

She took a deep breath in, realizing that she had stopped filling her lungs with air while she had her epiphany. Dumbledore had ceased his fidgeting and was staring at her unblinking behind his purple rimmed, crescent shaped glasses.

"What I think is you have a grave decision ahead of you that will take much thought on your part. I only hope you choose the right one," he said solemnly. He straightened his back, flicking his wand to open the door. "If there is nothing else plaguing you, you may go. My door is always open for someone in need."

She stood immediately, feeling disgruntled and unsure. As her back turned he called out, "And Miss Malfoy?"

She paused.

"Whatever you treasure, there your heart will lie."

The door creaked shut loudly behind her, disguising her hammering heart.

* * *

A/N: Thank you all so much for the reviews last chapter! I really do appreciate them. :)

Guest Comments:

Guest 1: I'm glad it read well haha I can't stop laughing. She had to snap sometime and I think getting that thrown in her face with no warning definitely made it time for her to lose it. This story is rated M because of future chapters. Right now it's been rated Teen, but I just want my readers to know what they're getting into instead of having them enjoy a story and it suddenly being rated M.

Guest 2: Well she had nothing to lose and she didn't really care at that moment. She was really in a emotional fit of rage. It's not like a teacher putting her in detention is one of the worst of her worries haha


	40. Chapter 40

Chapter 40

* * *

Her mind was stuck in her thoughts, the questions that rattled through her brain when left alone to her own devices.

She pondered what was the right decision. What she could live with after choosing. Could she accept her mother's complete disinterest, acting as if Lyra did not even exist? Would she be able to endure losing all her friendships and the only boy she'd ever loved, and was almost certain ever would? Perhaps before she could have been happy with Flint, maybe she could have fallen in love with him.

But she could grasp that it wouldn't be possible now. Not after everything that had happened.

She knew what it was like to feel free, to not worry or have any expectations on her. Colin gave her that, and it was a gift she would always cherish. Any children she had with Marcus would have to follow the pureblood way. Could she stand by and watch her children go through what she had?

At night these children plagued her. Babies with blue eyes and black hair, with golden blonde and tan skin.

Babies with smiling brown eyes.

The first thing she had done that night was pen a letter to her mother begging her to reconsider. Lyra had to try. She put all her effort into it and tried to make her mother understand her exact point of view.

It was all for naught. Mother had refused, and although Lyra had remained slightly hopeful she knew that would be the result anyway.

But she had to _try_. She couldn't just lie down and take whatever was given to her, not when there was so much on the line. She decided to attempt to convince mother in person, asking to speak about this during her next Hogsmeade trip. There was only one left until Yule came, until her pending nuptials.

A part of her still couldn't believe it.

She wouldn't talk to her brother anymore. He didn't care about her taciturn feelings, and was too busy in his own little world and working on whatever plan the Dark Lord had tasked him to do. He would not be coming home for Christmas. He only planned to be picked up at Hogsmeade the day before the wedding and return the evening after. She wanted to despise him so very much.

But he was her brother, so she couldn't.

He didn't look very healthy. He had been skipping meals, and his hair was in disarray. He was even pushing Pansy Parkinson to the side, something Lyra thought she'd never see happen. She couldn't be there for Draco right now, not with her mind like it was at the moment. She would only be pessimistic and bring him down too, and he had enough of that on his own.

She stared at herself in her vanity, wondering what everyone else saw when they looked at her. Cold blue eyes reflected back from the reflective surface, outlined with delicate but aristocratic features. Her hair was limp, with dark circles under her eyes.

She looked like a pureblood.

A pureblood trying to hide something, but a pureblood none-the-less. Lyra wondered if she'd ever be more than that. She was tired of blood defining who she was as a person, but when the only alternative to that was becoming a blood traitor it put her in a tough predicament.

"You stupid little idiot!" Ginny screeched after slamming the dormitory door open. "Why would you do that? I knew you were dumb Romilda, but not that senseless!"

Romilda seemed taken aback at first, but then her eyes welled with angry tears. "You shut up! You don't know anything!"

Mary stared wide eyed, seeming to be just as out of the loop as Lyra.

"Ginny," Mary said attempting to placate the raging red head. "Perhaps we should-"

"No!" Ginny shouted exasperated. "This doesn't get to be just buried under the rug like it never happened. Why would you do that Romilda? Why?"

Romilda twisted to look into the mirror, petting her hair into place. "This has nothing to do with you," she said coldly.

"It bloody well does! That damned love potion meant for Potter ended up being taken by _my_ brother, thank you very much!"

"Maybe if he didn't eat everything in sight he wouldn't be in this predicament," Romilda said nastily.

Ginny looked as if she wanted to pummel Romilda with her fists.

"You're such a foolish little girl! I don't even know why we're friends!"

"It doesn't matter!"

"Yes it does!"

"No, it doesn't!"

"It does too!"

Romilda appeared to have finally reached her boiling point, turning around to snarl viciously, "WHY? WHY DOES IT MATTER WHEN WE'RE ALL GOING TO DIE ANYWAYS!" She sniffed, nose tilted in the air as if she smelled something revolting. "I think I should at least have a little happiness before that happens."

All of them were at a loss for words.

"Romilda," Mary said finally. "What are you talking about?"

"Oh, don't play dumb!" Romilda grumbled in irritation. "Not even purebloods are safe. Look at Lyra! She knows if she decided to be with Colin she would be killed, and if she was lucky it would be only her. If that's what it's like for her, there's going to be nothing for us small people. My dad is a muggle, and muggles are dying every day… it's only a matter of time," she said contemplative.

"You have to stay positive," Mary said softly. "We can't just give up like that."

"Why?" Romilda asked, truly not understanding. "If it's the truth then why deny it."

"We still have Dumbledore, and Harry Potter. We're going to be fine Romilda," Ginny promised, calming down.

Romilda glared at Ginny stubbornly through the reflection on the mirror. "I don't believe you. If Lyra said that then maybe I might listen, but otherwise you're talking out of your ears."

Mary and Ginny turned to Lyra. She cleared her throat nervously.

"I…." What could Lyra say? That it was the truth? That wasn't what they wanted or needed to hear. They still had hope, their lives were still being written unlike hers. They needed a little more than that to go on. "The Dark Lord has always been afraid of Dumbledore. As long as we have Dumbledore there is hope."

She made sure to keep her face in the shadows, hiding the dishonesty written clearly along the planes of her disheveled features.

* * *

Every day she had to fight with herself about whether or not to even try to keep up appearance. Sometimes that inner pureblood inside her won, and she appeared perfect and meticulously groomed. Other times….

Today was such a day. She had barely ran a brush through her hair, too preoccupied by her racing thoughts. Love or family? Happiness or acceptance? It was a daily argument she had with herself, one she still did not have the answer to. She no longer cared about school. She went to classes and participated, but only because she knew one of her teachers would write her mother otherwise. As a result her grades had dropped. She was almost certain she was failing just about every class she had.

Which was why she was currently stuck in Professor McGonagalls office.

The stern older woman looked at her over spectacled eyes, arms folded across the desk. "This year is your OWL year," she began.

Lyra picked at a piece of chipped wood hanging off the chair. "I know."

"This is one of your most important years. You've always done very well in school, and studied often to get top marks. What has happened now to change your obvious blatant disregard of school?"

Lyra glanced up at McGonagall beneath lowered lashes, her lips a thin line. "I'm sure you've received a letter from my mother regarding what will happen next trimester."

The Gryffindor Head of House appeared taken aback. "I have not. Why, what will happen?"

Lyra's head shot up in surprise, forgetting about how mere seconds before she was doing everything possible to avoid eye contact. "You haven't gotten a message about me at all?"

She was under the impression that after Yule she would be pulled out of Hogwarts to do whatever being a pureblood wife entailed. Flint had sent her three owls since Lyra learned of her wedding, all which she had ignored. She didn't know what to say to him, and wanted to begrudge him for being her husband even though she was almost certain he had not chosen this. She wanted someone to blame, a scape goat per say, and it was not easy to locate one.

"Nothing at all." her professor confirmed. "Why, should I be expecting anything?"

In this territory Lyra was uncertain. She wasn't sure what was okay to speak about, and what was better kept under wraps.

"I'm getting married this upcoming break and have decided school is pointless."

It would all come out eventually.

Not once in five years that Professor McGonagall had been teaching Lyra had she seen the deputy Headmistress at a loss for words, but there was no other way to describe it. They sat there silent for a whole minute, the older woman's eyes wide and mouth opening and closing without control. She seemed to get her bearings after a while, shutting her mouth and shaking her head.

"That does not mean to give up. Becoming a wife does not mean you have to be uneducated."

"Why should I study? It will all surmount to nothing."

A heavy feeling weighed in Lyra's stomach, but she ignored it.

"You can be married and still have a job."

Lyra nearly laughed. Maybe out of pureblood circles that was possible, but in her world that was unheard of. Not even when a couple had only girls did those children learn the business and take over. No, it was always the man that married into the family that learned the ropes. It was possible for pureblood women to do things before marriage, but afterwards a woman was expected to drop "frivolous" activities like jobs and careers and become "family oriented." Even when pureblood women received opportunities, such as her Aunt Bellatrix had, they would never have been able to continue them after marriage. Some females that had a choice chose to never marry at all because of this. But that was far and few in between. For most girls this was expected of them, especially with their dwindling numbers.

Surely Lyra was not expected to have children yet. That would be obscene, and completely medieval. Even her grandparents had not done that. Grandmother was nineteen when she had her father, Lucius, and Lyra's mother had been twenty-five when Draco was born. It wasn't possible, she would only be expected to marry. She was certain of this.

Lyra leaned back in her chair. McGonagall would not understand pureblood politics, not when she was raised as a half-blood. Ginny barely understood them.

Professor McGonagall surveyed her with narrowed eyes. "This is your wish, is it not? Getting married under seventeen can be a complicated process and all, since you need both parent's signatures for it." She leaned closer. "Miss Malfoy, you're not being… _coerced_ , are you? I know you're in a tough spot right now, but I assure you we can help. Dumbledore would be able to find you somewhere safe to live, and-"

"I'm not being forced," Lyra said harshly, putting an end to the transfiguration teacher's monologue. She didn't need McGonagall prying like this. Her family was already struggling enough. She didn't need these types of allegations added for her family to bear also.

McGonagall still had dreams, where people could hide and not be found and good always prevailed. Lyra didn't think she ever had dreams like that, and it was strange realizing this with the professor right across from her with that characteristic stern face and midnight black robes draped across her being.

"Very well then, but that still does not mean give up."

Lyra stopped listening, because after hearing this for the third time she knew that no matter what she said McGonagall would not be able to accept Lyra's words.

She leaned forward, eyes locking with the professor; challenging her, because, for once, there was nothing Minerva McGonagall could say to her that would frighten her.

"I think this conversation has come to a close," Lyra supplied casually, stretching as she stood up. "Have a nice day."

At least one of them would.

She passed by Colin on the way to the Gryffindor tower, motioning him to follow her. He had been trying to get her attention for days, and if she understood the way Colin worked at all it was that he would eventually get what he wanted.

She debated long and hard over whether she should tell him about her pending nuptials. She was surprised mother hadn't spread the news around, but maybe with father in Azkaban her mother was trying to stay low key.

"I've been wanting to speak to you," Colin said as soon as the door was closed. A hand griped her forearm, meant to be comforting but only served to make Lyra even more nervous.

"Have you heard?"

"About what?" he asked, gently tugging her arm to turn her to face him. "Look, it doesn't matter what I have and have not heard. I just want you to know I understand."

They gazed at each other, both waiting for the others reaction.

"I think I truly understand what you've been trying to say this whole time. I finally get it; and I want you to know I don't care."

"Colin-"

"No Lyra, listen to me for once. I need to get this out." He took a deep breath, pacing back and forth in front of her a few turns before stopping. "I understand what it is you'll lose, and that if you were to pick me your family wouldn't take you back. But Lyra, I love you- no listen!" he said when Lyra went to interrupt. "Let me talk, please," he pleaded, a begging quality interlaced within his voice.

When Lyra remained silent, he continued, "I love you, and I know that there's so much more going on than just you and me right now, and that I'm not the only person in your life… I know that, but I can't _see_ that. All I can see is you, and your smiles and shy eyes and pink blushing cheeks." His hands wrapped tightly around hers and she squeezed her eyes shut, wishing she couldn't hear this. He was always so convincing, and it tore her apart. He took another deep breath in, glancing at her anxiously.

"We can run away together."

As she stared at him nothing could come to mind except his words, his strange foreign words that Lyra didn't quite know what to do with.

"Now, I know this sounds stupid and we're only sixteen, but surely you can understand this more than anything else. I want to be with you." His hand came up to caress her cheek. "I want to love you and call you my own, and I want you to do the same. We could be happy together, truly happy."

"Where did this come from?" she whispered, finding her voice.

"I, I've thought about this for a long time. Lyra, I _know_ you. You won't be happy with Flint, not truly. Maybe content, but not like it's supposed to be. You could never accept him and what he's going to do. It's against everything you stand for."

Lyra turned around, wrapping her fist tightly against her family crest which hung from her silver chain. "How do you know he'll work for the Dark Lord?" she whispered.

He snorted. "If he doesn't now then he certainly will. You know you can't accept that. It's going to kill you."

"That doesn't matter."

"We would be free, able to love each other like we only wished we could."

"Yes," she agreed with clenched teeth, tired of all this romanticism he was spewing. "But by the end of that day we would both be dead. Is one day of joy truly worth that?"

"Yes," he supplied without skipping a beat. "I would be living. I wouldn't be afraid. It would all be worth it."

"Then you are a fool," she snarled, whipping around. "A clumsy little fool that day dreams of better days to come."

"Because they will come," he answered surely.

"Not for me."

"They will."

"I'm getting married."

He sighed, rubbing a hand through his hair. "I know that. You've made that clear since the moment I've met you. But it doesn't have to be that way."

"No," she murmured, calming down. Her fist dropped from her necklace and she suddenly felt very lethargic, her shoulder's slumping and hands drooping by her sides. "I'm getting married this Christmas break."

He took a startled breath it, taken aback.

"So it would be best if you moved on," she continued. "Date other people… and just forget about me, okay? Let me go, it will be easier that way." She wanted to take the words back immediately, but she wasn't sure what would hurt more. Seeing Colin with another girl or seeing him watch her with those melancholy eyes as she was dragged into her future. A future without him, and one that could not bring her the happiness she now knew she could have had if only her last name was something else entirely.

He didn't reply until her hand was on the door knob, ready to pull it open. "Will it be easier for you? Will watching me move on help you?"

She let out a bitter laugh. "Things haven't been easy for me in a very long time."

* * *

A/N: A lot of you had some really good responses on why this is called "Behind the Veil!" One of you actually got it right too! I wasn't sure of any of you would get it after I asked my beta and she said she had no clue why it was called "Behind the Veil" even after reading all the chapters.

Thirty chapters left! Thanks to everyone that reviewed!


	41. Chapter 41

Chapter 41

* * *

Mother sat primly across from her, elegantly picking up her tea cup as they waited to be served by the waitress. Since her mother had picked her up at Hogsmeade an hour ago Lyra had remained silent. Mother looked different; she was frailer, more fragile. Mother's condition had always been nothing less than perfect, and Lyra was realizing that perhaps all of this was just as hard on her as it was for Lyra.

"You look unkempt," mother commented, eyeing her critically before turning to look out the window with a bored expression.

Lyra didn't answer, knowing that her reply would somehow end up snarky or bitter.

"Young Marcus worries about you." Mother's ice blue eyes trained on her, pinning her down. "You need to answer his replies. He's told me he's sent you many owls, none which you have responded to. He is your fiancé and that is not acceptable."

Lyra swallowed thickly, gripping the lukewarm tea between stiff fingers. "I need space."

Mother's lips pursed. "You can't get much farther from him than you are at this moment. It would not kill you to send a letter or two."

"I don't want to talk to anyone."

"That is part of being a Malfoy: pretending that you do."

"But I'm not going to be a Malfoy anymore, am I?" She gave her mother a fake smile, her eyes challenging.

Mother glanced around them, searching for any prying eyes. When she found none she let out a baited breath, dropping a few coins and motioning for Lyra to follow her. Lyra followed her mother, a silent shadow in the brightness of Diagon Alley. They entered Twillfit and Tattings, mother going directly to the sales witch who was measuring the thickness of some of the ribbons on display.

"We need wedding robes. A soft peach in color, or maybe a light grey."

"Of course, who will they be for?" The bubbly witch asked, motioning with a spell for the bolts of fabric to come to her.

Mother turned pointedly to Lyra and the woman blanched.

"For her?

Mother nodded.

The witch frowned before giving a nod and setting to work. "She's a bit young, don't you think?

Mother straightened her back severely. "If you have an issue with this, then surely I can take my commerce-"

"No, that's not needed," the young witch hurried out, appearing nervous about losing a sale that was surely from one of the store's top patrons. "It's none of my business, don't worry about my nettling."

Lyra stared at the picture of a witch above the counter. She was certainly happier than Lyra was, with flowing robes and a beautiful, carefree smile on her face. Lyra didn't think she'd ever been like that witch in the picture, not even as a child. Being a Malfoy held responsibility no matter the age.

When the witch stepped away her mother asked in a moment of doubt, "Do you have a preference for your wedding robes?"

"I don't care what I wear.

Her mother quieted. "That's not like you."

Lyra swallowed thickly, taking a deep breath in. "I just don't understand," she whispered in a wounded tone. "Why now? Why can't we wait until at least the summer? What is all the rush?"

"Silence," her mother murmured, watching the door the sales clerk had gone into. She took a step closer to Lyra. "This wedding is very important."

"But why!" Lyra burst near to tears. "I don't understand why!"

Lyra's mother gave her a look so poignant that it silenced her, taking another step forward so that her mouth was to Lyra's ear. "I have already lost a son. I cannot sacrifice anymore. The Dark Lord is angry, and has given your brother an almost impossible task. The Dark Lord has been asking about you, pressing me about our plans for your future. It was the only option. He's left me alone since telling him of your pending marriage." Her mother's eyes pleaded with hers. "This is the only way we can protect you. Surely, you can understand that?"

Lyra's lips parted in surprise, taking all of this in. It was done to _protect_ her? She all at once remembered Aunt Andromeda's words about how Lyra's mother must have a reason for all of this. It added up, especially with the Dark Lord knowing her stance on blood purity and muggleborns.

"But Marcus is a Death Eater now?" Lyra whispered furiously. It would be counterproductive. He would be just as involved as her family.

When her mother's eyes met hers she seemed tired, and much older than she had ever looked before. "So be it. We all must make sacrifices."

* * *

She stared at the motionless stone gargoyles in front of her. The severe curve of their brows, the snarl on the muzzle on the one of the left. How rounded their eyes were, with the pupils a deep dot in their orbits.

"Lemon drop."

Neither of them moved.

"Treacle tart."

They stared sightlessly in the distance.

"Acid pops. Cockroach clusters. Sour Apple Bites!"

She had overheard the Golden Trio talking earlier this week. Potter had said Dumbledore always had a sweet as a password, which was how he had gotten into Dumbledore's office without help. She had been waiting for this moment all week. Dumbledore had left the grounds, and now it was time for Lyra to act before it was too late.

"Jelly slugs?"

She sighed, pulling at her hair in frustration.

"Acid pops," she said in a resigned voice. (You said acid pops above too.)

The stones roared to life, standing up as a smooth rubbing sound filled the air. The sound of stone haggardly chafing together.

She stared into the darkened passage, taking a hesitant step forward to look at the ominous stairs leading above. She had only been in Dumbledore's office twice: once when she had cursed Professor Moody and the other when she had a moment of weakness and screeched like a hag for the Aurors to open the gate.

She did not count her trip to Umbridge's office as a third time. The old hag should have never been allowed to set foot in this place.

Lyra tip toed up the stairs, glancing behind her to make sure no one was watching her. She had skipped history for this, not that it was a big deal. Professor Binns would never notice. Only a fellow student speaking up would notify any type of authority. Unless the portraits lining the wall told on her, which was a big possibility.

What did it matter? Her schooling days were over anyways. She had asked mother about whether or not she could return to Hogwarts after school break, and her only response was that it was a conversation she would have to hold with her husband.

Considering she was ignoring him it was hard to ask such questions.

She poked at a metronome, watching it bounce back towards her. Dumbledore's phoenix was sitting in his office. He barely spared her a glance before going back to ruffling his feathers. Lyra wasn't even certain what its name was, or if it even had one, but it was a very beautiful bird.

She stared at the sorting hat sitting in the glass cabinet behind the cage. Stairs led up to it, along with a few other strange items that Lyra couldn't bring herself to peruse. The phoenix appeared to be very docile, so Lyra hoped that meant she would be able to sneak by it without any mishaps.

Once she inched past the cage she could see the sorting hat clearly, its snoring breaths much louder than she anticipated. The glass cabinet creaked open easily enough, and it only woke up once both her hands were firmly on its edged.

"It's not the next school year yet, is it? I haven't finished making my song. Ah, is this a curious student? Sneaking behind Dumbledore's back, I see."

She hurried to place it on her head before she lost her nerve.

"Ah, Lyra Malfoy! I've already sorted you! It was Gryffindor, although I distinctly remember recommending Slytherin."

Lyra leaned against the cabinet, squinting her eyes shut as she slid down until she sat on the floor.

"You wish to be resorted? I'm not sure I can do that, I've never done it in the entire history of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Not even during the founders' days! I've gone through seventy-two headmasters in my time and I can say this is a first. I don't have many of those anymore."

"Just sort me, I don't care about the rest," she whispered, becoming frustrated.

"It would be pointless. You would still be a Gryffindor no matter what I say. I cannot take back a sorting once a student has been sorted."

 _I don't need to be re-sorted. I just need to know if I am still meant for Slytherin._

She blinked furiously, rubbing a sleeve across her face to pick up the budding tears. She had to know this. She only wanted to understand herself better. Perhaps with the help of whatever the sorting hat told her then she would know what to do. This decision was too difficult. Talking to Aunt Andromeda had helped some, but she needed a little more than that. There was no going back once she chose, and one of the alternatives could be dangerous.

Yes, she had to be very careful about her choice. It could not be chosen on a whim.

"I suppose… just this once, but only because it is a first. Hmm, you are quite different from when I last saw you, are you not? I see, you have a grave decision ahead. You hope that I can help. I want to remind you at the end of a day I am still a hat, no matter how magical. You cannot put all your stock in me… but on with this resorting! You certainly are more Gryffindor-like than you were! How strange! Do most people change so much during school? Oh, don't answer that. You cannot see _people_ like I do."

Lyra bit roughly on her cheek, rubbing her forehead against her knees tiredly.

"You have less Slytherin traits too. More brash, yes. I think…" he said, coming to a conclusion. "That if I had to resort you… that I would choose Hufflepuff."

"No," she murmured, repeating the word a second time loudly. "That's not one of the choices. It's either Gryffindor or Slytherin."

"I'm sorry, my dear, but I am staying strong this time. If I were to re-sort you I would place you in Hufflepuff.

"But," she argued, her bottom lip trembling. "Hufflepuff isn't a choice! It's only a house!"

"As they all are," the hat said grandly. "Now if you would place me back in my cupboard that would be delightful."

"But you have to help me!"

"I have, and now it is time for sleep."

She kept the hat on a few minutes further, hoping that perhaps the old, fraying hat would see something else in her with the extra time. He remained silent, eventually falling asleep atop her head.


	42. Chapter 42

Chapter 42

* * *

Time never passed so fast.

It was already November. At this point Lyra considered herself a coward, too afraid to make any decision. She couldn't forget Ginny's words last term before they left, that even inaction was an action. If she did nothing, that would mean she chose her family's side.

Aunt Andromeda had helped her too, stating that whatever she chose she must live with. Lyra was still too fickle to choose which one she could survive without. The sorting hat was useless, telling her she belonged in that dreadful Hufflepuff house. That wasn't on the playing board as a choice. She had wanted the hat to pick which one she belonged to more: Gryffindor or Slytherin. The decrepit thing couldn't even do that for her. It was completely useless.

A thin, bony hand pressed on her shoulder, the smell of frankincense strong in the air. "What do you see, my dear?" Professor Trelawney bent down, her coke-bottle eyeglasses magnifying her eyes to an almost frightening size. Lyra moved slightly away from her, getting some much needed room between them. With that done Lyra brought her attention back to the foggy crystal ball. All she saw was puffy, white clouds. Not even her imagination could save her.

"I see hints of gold in yours. Yes, riches shall be coming your way. It has been written down in stone."

Lyra nearly rolled her eyes. She was a _Malfoy._ Of course she would be on the receiving end of a large sum of cash. Even a muggle could have seen that. "Er, I see red?"

What did red mean? She couldn't remember, all she could recall was that she had read it once in her book.

The divination professor became very grave, pressing what the frazzled woman tried to impart as a comforting expression. The giant glasses ruined the effect she was going for.

"My poor dear, do you know if it is for you?"

Oh Merlin.

"I think it's for…" she glanced across the room. "I think it has to do with your tea leaves."

Professor Trelawney tensed, scratching at her throat nervously before purposely walking across the room to trouble another student. This time it was Andrew Eggton, a studious looking Ravenclaw. He seemed to take the teacher seriously, nodding before telling her his findings in a deep baritone voice.

Lyra flipped through her book, glancing over to Trelawney once more before skimming down to the section labeled "Crystal Gazing." She nearly laughed. Red meant danger. Lyra had prophesied that the tea leaves would be in peril. She had picked the first inanimate object that her gaze laid upon because she knew from experience that Trelawney would hassle whatever student Lyra named.

She hurried to write down her facetious findings, knowing the eccentric divination professor would want it before class ended.

Her eyes shifted to Romilda, who was giggling with a fellow Harry Potter club member from Ravenclaw. Sometimes Romilda could be like before, but those times were becoming far and few. Mostly she was solemn, immersed in her thoughts. They all knew what Romilda was thinking now, and even after Lyra told Romilda that as long as they have Dumbledore they have hope, that only helped a modicum amount.

Neither of them said anything to the other as they passed, not even meeting gazes. By now they were used to avoiding each other outside of the dorm. It was instinctual.

At least it was finally lunch time. Lyra had skipped breakfast this morning. She hadn't felt like getting up. It was a feeling she was getting used to. She still hadn't told the girls about her pending wedding, couldn't bring herself to. She sat down next to Tracy and Rachel like usual. They traded greetings, small pleasantries really, and then Lyra fastidiously ignored them. She brought a cup of pumpkin juice to her lips, taking a delicate sip as she surveyed the dining room. Her eyes trained on one of the students and the glass in her hand fell, hitting the edge of the table and shattering upon the ground.

She stared, not quite believing what she saw. She didn't think he'd actually heed her advice, at least not so soon. But there he was, that carefree smile on his face with his arm wrapped around a giggling girl.

"Lyra, are you alright?"

She turned startled towards Tracy Davis, who was looking at her in something akin to confusion.

"We asked you that five times and you didn't answer," Rachel supplied, something flashing in her eyes. It seemed to be worry, but it couldn't be that. They were strangers. Tracy Davis and Rachel Bulstrode would not feel that way for strangers.

"I'm fine," Lyra whispered, training her eyes back on the stupid boy who held her now twisted and gnarled heart in his hand. It shouldn't hurt this much. She didn't think she could feel more pain than she already did. But the world seemed to want to prove her wrong at every turn.

The girl in his arms shifted, staring up at Colin with a grin making her features known. It was Rebecca Rounge, a dark skinned half-blood that was in Ravenclaw. Lyra comforted herself with the fact that the girl was not as pretty as her, but that didn't help much. It didn't help any at all. Rebecca also used to hide Luna's things when they were younger, but she had stopped that around third year.

Colin's eyes met hers. Lyra's breath ceased as they stared at each other, his face fathomless. His brows turned down in thought as he looked upon the head which he currently was so close to him. That look disappeared once their eyes met again.

And then he turned away.

She almost couldn't remember running out of the dining area, but some things were so clear. Like the strange looks many of the students had on their faces, the knowing one on her brother's. Part of Draco seemed to enjoy Lyra's misery based on the slightest hints of a smirk upon his lips. A part of her wanted to curse him for it. But she knew she could never go through with it. It was one of the many things she could never bring herself to do.

She tried to hold the tears back as she raced through the hallway, but she wasn't very successful. The stray tears fell, and her eyes blurred from trying to keep them from trailing down her cheeks. Lyra slammed the bathroom door closed swiftly, blubbering a silencing spell out before bursting into tears.

Colin had only done what Lyra had told him to do. She had said to forget her, to move on. Colin did it with her very blessing.

But that didn't stop it from hurting.

She didn't realize that a broken heart could actually hurt. Her chest _hurt._

It was only puppy love, she reasoned. She was only being silly.

But then why did it hurt so much?

This was for the best, she said to herself in some attempt of comfort. Colin would not be chasing after her anymore, and now he would not be in pain after Lyra became married.

If she chose that option.

Inaction was action, but it was so hard to choose.

No, she must not beg him to take her back. Colin didn't deserve to be dragged into this. He deserved happiness, and a long life. Colin merited a beautiful wife with a kind soul, one that wouldn't have so much baggage unlike her. At least both of them wouldn't be miserable then. If Colin was okay then maybe, eventually, Lyra could be at peace.

A loud, resounding knock clipped the door. She wanted to ignore it, but an unlocking charm would open the door easily enough. She took a deep breath in, attempting to calm her quivering breaths, before taking off the silencing spell.

"Go away!" she called. Anyone could tell she was crying, she only hoped the person on the other side pitied her enough to leave her alone.

"Lyra, open the door," Ginny said from behind it

"I said go away!" Lyra screeched. "I want to be alone."

She could hear a sigh on the other side. "Lyra, no you don't… I'm coming in, okay?"

Lyra brought her knees to her chest, wrapping her hands around her legs and hiding her face. The clip of shoes echoed through the small space, and Lyra clutched tighter to herself.

She felt Ginny slide down next to her. Lyra let out a sniffle, attempting to stop her cries. She hated crying in front of people, it always made her feel weak.

"Colin is dating that idiotic Rebecca Rounge girl."

Both of them knew that Rebecca wasn't stupid, but neither said anything against it.

"Are you okay?"

"What do you think?" Lyra asked rhetorically, still hiding her face.

Lyra concentrated on the rhythmic sound of Ginny's even breaths, thinking of anything except what she had seen earlier.

"I knew."

Lyra peaked at Ginny between the folds of her hair. "Knew what?"

Ginny was staring straight ahead, an expressionless look on her face. "About Colin. He stared dating Rebecca last week. They seemed to hit it off. At least, Rebecca did. Colin didn't seem as entranced."

"If you knew why didn't you warn me?" Lyra bit out.

"Because no matter how you learned it would not be easy for you."

Lyra closed her eyes. Strangely, the pitch black of her lids calmed her in a way nothing else was able to do. It was somewhat comforting to know his feelings were not as strong as Rebecca. Lyra tried to be a good person, she really did, but it was tough when the person you loved was with another girl. Lyra wanted only happiness for Colin, she just wished it didn't come with such heartbreak for her.

"Does he seem to like her?" Lyra asked in morbid curiosity, unable to stop herself.

Ginny shrugged. "I don't know, I never really saw you two together. But if you're asking if he looks at her the way he looked at you, then no. There's no comparison."

Good and bad news. She wished he would move on, but she wished he wouldn't.

"Ginny, I miss him," Lyra sniffled.

The red head wrapped her arms around Lyra, holding her tightly. "I know, Lyra. I understand completely."

* * *

The library was a rare backdrop for Lyra these days, a place that she seldom inhabited. But she knew her brother would be there. More often than not if he had disappeared without a trace he was there. Lyra balled her hand into a fist, striking her unsuspecting brother on the shoulder as she passed him to take a seat. He gasped, breathing in deeply, too shocked to be affronted by her sudden assault.

"That's for smirking at my misfortune earlier this week, dearest," she said sarcastically.

He rubbed his arm with a glare. "I'm busy right now. Perhaps you could bother me another time, or go visit with Rachel Bulstrode and company." He turned away, flipping the page of a craggy leather-bound book he was peering into.

She sighed deeply, watching wryly as Madame Pince hissed at a few rambunctious second years who were startled enough by the crow-like woman to grab their items and race out of the library in fright. "I've found for some strange reason I cannot bear their presence at the moment."

It wasn't Rachel and Tracy, per say. More like the needless babble of the mundane that dripped between their lips. She found it to be incorrigible, and supercilious.

Draco's brows scrunched, leaning closer to her to whisper in her ear. "Has Dumbledore talked to you at all?"

She blinked rapidly, fighting to control her breathing before it could manage to gain uncontrollable momentum. "Not since my… outburst, why?"

He pulled away, relaxing against the back of the seat. "He came to me the other day with questions… and some offers… but it doesn't matter. I don't think he knows, not yet," he whispered, the last part seeming more for himself than anyone.

"Knows what?"

He stirred, glancing around as if realizing for the first time where he was. "Nothing," he shrugged off.

Lyra drifted closer to Draco. "You know I could help you." She watched him timidly, worried about his reaction. "It's just, you haven't been looking well lately. You've lost weight, and your hair…" she trailed off. Draco had always been obsessed with it, something of a prized possession. The light blonde locks always signified everything Malfoy to him, and he proudly and meticulously placed his hair into its proper shape every morning.

But not anymore.

He barely had the time to taunt poor little first years, let alone style his hair.

"I don't need help from my little sister," he answered woodenly.

Lyra wrung her hands in her lap. "I'm only worried about you."

"Between you and mother, you're both suffocating," he grumbled. "Now please go away, you're wasting my very valuable time."

She gazed at his frowning face; the scowl across his brows, the way his lips sat pursed; and knew she would get nowhere with him. Draco could be stubborn when he wanted to, something they both had inherited from their father.

* * *

A/N: Thanks to everyone that reviewed a favorited last chapter. I decided to post this chapter as I'm moving this weekend and settling all next week and I'm unsure when I'll be able to post next.


	43. Chapter 43

Chapter 43

* * *

Lyra still could not decide which she could live without. One moment she thought perhaps she should stand by her family, despite being unable to be true to herself. As long as she hid that key part of her they would always support her.

But then the next moment she thought of her friends; of Colin and how happy she would be to not hide her feelings or her values. To become an Andromeda Black, per say. Both decisions had equal parts of good and bad, and she didn't know which one she could live without easier.

But she had chosen, she had to in the end.

As soon as she had stepped across that threshold it had been her choice. She wasn't sure how long she had stared at that gap, the dark space between the concrete and the shabbily carpeted, garnet red floor. Long enough for many of the students to become disgruntled and annoyed with her as they tried to step by her to get on the train themselves.

She was going home.

At least she was until her wedding, which would then change her surname from Malfoy to Flint and revise her new address. It was something she was not looking forward to.

Watching Colin with Rebecca Rounge had certainly influenced her decision. Rebecca was what Colin could have. She was the possibility. Someone normal, someone with a future that was unwritten. Oftentimes Lyra spied them together, his arm draped across her shoulder casually. An even more singular event that happened between Lyra's ex and his new lover was when Rebecca would gently kiss Colin's chin and he would smile at the dark skinned girl. That grin that had once been reserved only for Lyra.

Lyra detested watching them, but she couldn't help it. Watching them was a morbid fascination, as if it was a contest to see which would hurt more. Knowing that he was with another girl, or realizing that could have been Lyra he was so gently caressing. She would count the seconds as they ticked by, seeing how long it would take until she couldn't stand to watch them anymore. Her longest count had been one-hundred and three seconds, broken only when Colin had placed his hand on Rebecca's and stared deeply into her eyes, searching. Rebecca had giggled, pushing him away and telling him she had to study, but it didn't look as if it had disturbed her much, if any at all.

Maybe Colin could be happy with Rebecca. Perhaps Lyra could learn to love Marcus Flint. If she looked at it that way then all of this was meant to be.

It was as positive as Lyra could manage.

She hadn't talked to Marcus in months, not since she had found out about their pending nuptials. She wasn't relishing the upcoming conversation that must be held between them after she had ignored each and every one of his letters. Some of them she hadn't even opened, opting to throw them into the fireplace in a frigid rage.

In the next few days they would see each other, and truly she knew she could not blame him for this like she had been doing. She had made her decision, and now she must stand by it no matter what it brought her.

"You're here." Tracy Davis watched her curiously. "I was beginning to think you weren't coming."

Lyra sat down, dropping her hover charm and shoving her trunk the rest of the way under the seat. "The crowds were absolutely dreadful," she fibbed easily.

Tracy nodded in understanding. Rachel was preoccupied in the corner, attempting to write a letter.

"I heard about your pending wedding, congratulations," Rachel said, finishing up with a flourish of her quill.

Lyra gave them a tight smile. "It's all very exciting. I think every girl dreams of having a beautiful wedding."

Lyra knew she had when she was a child. She even attempted to plan her entire wedding out when she was all of eight, soon after finding out she was betrothed. She had decided on the number 320 for guest. At that age she thought 320 was the best number there was. It was the amount of apples on the apples trees that year, and there were so many of those. They dotted each tree, hiding between the branches and leaves. That number was how many paintings covered Malfoy Manor, and there was a painting on nearly _every wall_. Lyra could think of no more of a pleasing number than 320. Lyra had picked French cuisine to outline her distant French heritage from Armand Malfoy, the first Malfoy that migrated to Britain. She had imagined a handsome pureblood for her husband, someone she could be very happy with. They would have beautiful children, a boy and a girl. Lyra had planned everything out, down to the very last minute detail. By ten she had realized most of those things would not happen, at least not tinged by the contentment that she had harbored.

She had learned by then how the world worked, at least for a pureblood. Happiness was secondary to blood, and most purebloods were not the gallant wizards she had imagined. She had dismally realized all the boys in her age bracket were nothing like that. The closest had been Blaise Zabini. He had always been a flirt, even as a child. His dark eyes had been charming, the chocolate color of his skin dreamy. She had hoped and hoped that Blaise Zabini would be her future husband, but then one day she realized Blaise wasn't just kind to her. He treated all girls that way, and he didn't like her any more than the next girl. It had crushed her, and that day she had ripped to pieces the papers hidden at the bottom of her drawer that framed her perfect wedding. Because that would never be real.

Before Colin, Blaise had been the only person she'd ever had a crush on. Marcus had been an absolute shock for her when father had told her at eleven, but she could accept Marcus. She felt the beginnings of fondness for him, she had to hope one day it would turn to love.

"You're so young though," Tracy whispered, a malicious glint in her eyes which she attempted to hide. "You're not…" she trailed off delicately, eyes dropping to Lyra's stomach.

Even with that heavy handed clue it took a moment for Lyra to truly understand. "NO!" she burst. "Certainly not! I am pure, as most pureblood women are when they marry. We all just thought it would be a wonderful idea to push the wedding up. Why wait? Marcus is twenty-two and I don't plan on doing anything after Hogwarts. I do not even wish to come back seventh year." That last part would have been a lie a year ago, but it was true now. Lyra didn't see the point of many things these days.

"So you aren't pregnant?" Rachel asked incredulously. "We were almost certain you were. It's so rare in this day and age to get married so young."

"No, I'm not pregnant."

"Are you really pure?" Tracy pressed, a wrinkle in her nose.

"Of course!" she denied, offended.

Tracy leaned closer to Lyra. "It wouldn't be shameful if you weren't. Many purebloods aren't. It's all very discreet, that getting out could ruin a person."

This was news to Lyra, which was evident on her face based on their expressions.

"Wait, you're truly a virgin? Untouched? I thought you were denying it because that was the proper thing to do." Rachel said with a frown.

Her mother had always said it was unseemly to have sexual relations before marriage, and Lyra had believed that at face value. She hadn't thought to ask anyone else about it, not that she could. There were no other pureblood women she was close to, at least not traditional ones.

"I mean, most purebloods are virgins when they marry. A little more than half maybe, but a marriage wouldn't be called off if the other spouse found out different. Perhaps if it got out before the wedding that person was soiled, but usually it doesn't matter."

Lyra stared at them dismally. "Mother always said, she said that purebloods don't do that sort of thing."

"Of course she said that, she's your mother," Tracy said with an ironic laugh. "It's her job to tell you that sort of thing. Do you think she wants a harlot for a daughter?"

It appeared that Lyra still had much to learn of the world. She now wondered if Flint had been chaste all these years as he waited for her. He was at the proper age for marrying, unlike Lyra. Perhaps he had done the very thing these girls were hinting at.

Surprisingly, that thought didn't bother her. It did make her feel awkward. She would barely know what she was doing. If he already knew how it all worked that would make her feel even more like an imbecile. It would hurt her pride to be seen like that. She had an idea of what to do thanks to Romilda, and Lyra herself had some experience with kissing at least. Hopefully that would be enough.

When she got off the train she immediately froze, staring wide eyed at her fiancé that stood serenely next to her mother. She glanced between them helplessly, before taking a drawn out step towards them. She hadn't expected to meet Marcus so soon. She wasn't prepared for this, she still had so many things she had to figure out how to say to him before this moment happened.

"Mother." She leaning forward to place a kiss on her cheek. "I wasn't expecting to see Marcus."

Her mother glared at her, pressing a dry kiss to Lyra's forehead in greeting. "I heard from this young man you've still been avoiding him. That isn't very appropriate Lyra. I shall take your bag home and you two will work out whatever has been troubling you. You're getting married Lyra, you can't treat a marriage like this. That will only ruin it."

Lyra flinched, unwilling to meet either of their gazes. From her view of the floor she could see Marcus shifting his feet awkwardly, and mother impatiently tapping her shoes.

"Of course mother. I will see you later tonight."

Mother gave a pleased nod, leaving the two of them alone to their own devices.

"Shall we go to Diagon Alley?" Marcus asked finally.

She agreed and they locked arms, disappearing from the bustling train station to the ice cream shop in Diagon Alley.

"Ice cream in the winter?" she asked paradoxically.

His lips tilted up slightly. "Why not?"

After they both ordered their ice cream, Lyra deciding on vanilla apple crumble and Marcus Butterbeer flavored, both sat down across from the other silently enjoying their snack. When Lyra was about two-thirds done she decided to speak.

"What are you expecting from this marriage?" It was the closest way she could phrase what she was asking. She didn't want to be a stay-at-home wife, not yet. It would stifle and make her go stir crazy talking only to a crack pot house elf every day.

He swallowed his spoon of ice cream, bringing his questioning gaze to hers. "I can tell you're not ready to be married. That much is obvious based on how you ignored my letters." Lyra had the decency to blush. "I'm not sure if I would have been ready at sixteen either, but it's something your parents want. I asked them if perhaps you could have another year, at least to finish up your O.W.L's, but your mother wouldn't budge."

She should have known this was all her parent's idea. In fact, a part of her must have already realized that. They were hiding so many things these day, and Lyra could only surmount that these secrets were needed for the Malfoy family's survival.

"Does that mean I won't be going back to Hogwarts once break ends?" she asked nervously, fidgeting with her spoon.

"If you want to you can go back. It's entirely your choice."

Lyra blinked, not quite believing the words she just heard. "So if I decided to go back to Hogwarts you will not fight me on it?"

Marcus seemed to be avoiding her gaze, going so far as to take another bite of his now dripping ice cream to stave off answering her. "You're so young- I want you to have a choice in all of this. I didn't expect to be marrying you this soon either, not until you at least finished Hogwarts. The way our parents talked a few years back you would think that you would have been in your twenties before getting married. But things change… so many things are changing and people cannot even see it."

She took a startled breath in, realizing that he could only be talking about one thing. She didn't like acknowledging that her future husband was a death eater. If it was her choice at all she'd never see that horrid black and green tattoo that was sure to be draped across his arm his entire life. She had never been a witness to her father's. Lucius Malfoy was never one for casual wear despite how torrid the weather may be. Staring at that mark would be vulgar and formidable for her.

But this was her choice.

Colin had taken her advice on finding someone new, but she never imagined how much it would hurt. She had violent thoughts about Rebecca Rounge, ones where she showed the girl exactly what Lyra thought about her.

It wasn't very ladylike, but Lyra was beyond caring about that sort of thing.

"I won't force you to marry me," he said strongly. "If you really don't want to go through with it I'll convince our parents somehow. I'll, I'll convince them to press it back at the least. I would rather live without you than have you hate me for the rest of your life."

Lyra stared wide-eyed at Marcus, momentarily forgetting the fact that she had been studiously avoiding him only a moment before. He gazed resolutely into her eyes.

He was telling the truth. He would somehow cancel everything if he could.

She bit down harshly on the side of her cheek, forgetting about the lackluster ice cream that sat coagulating at the bottom of her cup. As soon as she tried to peg Marcus as evil or a complete brute he'd do something like this proving her wrong. Marcus wasn't bad, just misguided. With a proclivity towards violence, of course. Ginny never let her forget that. He could be a good person when he wanted to be, and for some reason he cared enough about her to be that way just for Lyra.

She had lapses in judgement just like Marcus did. If she had never loved Colin it would have been so much easier to love Marcus. She wasn't even sure if what she did with Colin counted as cheating, and she wasn't about to ask anyone about the grey areas in life. She'd have to live with what she'd done, as much as Marcus would for what he would do. Somehow Lyra didn't think he would have as many regrets as Lyra.

She reached her hand over to his, squeezing. "I'll marry you. Of course I will. I was only frightened. I shouldn't have avoided you like I did, but I was trying to deal with it all. It wasn't a very good way, but it was the only one I seemed to be able to do at that moment."

He didn't appear to believe her at first, staring deeply into her eyes while leaning over the table. But finally he gave a brief nod, his features relaxing as he leaned his head back to stare at the sky.

Waiting for her answer had rattled him more than he wanted to show. She could tell it was his way of attempting to hide that from her. When he had composed himself he brought his head back down, giving her the slightest of smiles.

Perhaps she could have happiness with him.

* * *

Her mother sat watching her with a strange look on her face. Every few minutes she would bring the exquisitely colored red wine to her lips and take a sip, leisurely pulling it back to its resting place; the stem of the crystal glass dangling inside the space where her index and thumb touched to lock the glass in, her arm held up by the pristine white couch it leaned on.

"What are you expecting on your wedding day?" mother voiced.

The seamstress hovered around her, taking last minute measurements. It was a bit loose in the bust area, not surprising considering how small her chest was. People always expected her breast to be bigger, as that was always one of the places taken in even after getting her approximate measurements done. Mother once had the idea to pad her chest to make it appear larger, but that did not sit very well with Lyra. It had felt too awkward.

"I don't know, dancing? Drinking and merriment?" Walking down the aisle with no father to take her. Mother and Lyra had already talked about it, and both of them had decided Draco would take her in father's stead. It wasn't the same, but it was all they could do. Mother had tried asking the ministry, even though they both knew it would be in vain. No one ever left Azkaban for happy little visits like this. Not for sad ones either, now to think of it.

"Have you thought nothing of your wedding night?"

Lyra had been adamantly avoiding that train of thought. She hoped it would be over and done with quickly, and did not relish the idea of it.

"Some," she hedged.

The seamstress frowned at Lyra's chest, making her self-conscious. "We'll put some beading there, perhaps some pearls? It will embellish the lines there and make them appear larger," the woman murmured.

"Please do," her mother said, ever so helpful. The woman left in a flourish of skirts to the back of the shop to retrieve the items. Her mother's cold, lifeless gaze threw Lyra off for a moment. "Not all men are the same."

Lyra's brows furrowed in confusion. "Yes, mother. Of course."

"Some men have certain… _preferences_."

She blinked dismally, not quite understanding her mother's train of thought. "Mother?"

Narcissa Malfoy sat back further in the chair, making herself comfortable. "We talked about sexual relations before, you have already grasped how that works. What I did not tell you was that some men enjoy certain, let us say, nefarious activities that may not appear ideal. You are to do what your husband tells you to, no matter how perverse it may appear to be. It cannot be wrong when between man and wife. Do you understand?"

Lyra stared wide eyed at her mother, rubbing the center of her chest. "What do you mea-"

"I said," her mother repeated carefully, "do you understand?"

Lyra clutched her hands into tight fists, an attempt to hide just how much her mother's words had struck fear into her heart. She wasn't even sure what her mother meant. _Perverse things?_ Wasn't shagging already considered a base activity? What could be worse than that? She opened her mouth to ask more questions, but the stony look in her mother's eyed made Lyra realize that none of her questions would be answered. Not today. Probably not ever.

"Yes, mother."

* * *

A/N: I'm back! And basically unpacked and everything. I thought it would take me longer to organize haha thanks to everyone who reviewed! I'd also like to celebrate 100 follows! MademioselleRiddle is my 100th follower so this chapter is dedicated to you! ^.^


	44. Chapter 44

Chapter 44

* * *

Her mother's words had not helped her at all. It left her trembling, with a faint sickness spreading into her stomach. She couldn't bring herself to eat anything, even drinking water made her feel uneasy.

Had her mother been warning her? Had she heard that Marcus Flint enjoyed doing strange things to women in the darkness of the night? Mere days ago he had been so welcoming. Now the slightest glimpse of him left her frazzled and alarmed.

She had sent a letter to father in her desperation, carefully penning her words to ask if he'd heard of any strange behaviors her fiancé partook in. His answering letter was unamused, telling her to ask Marcus herself because he was to be her husband in mere hours anyways.

She couldn't send a letter to Ginny or Romilda asking for advice. It was too much of a risk. She had too much on the line to throw it all away now. She tugged on the low hem of her dress robes. It was a soft blue, with beautiful crystal accents. Only the best for a Malfoy.

But now she was to be a Flint.

Her mother had planned everything. Lyra couldn't bring herself to pick out decorations, or be more vocal on exactly what she didn't want her dress to look like. Her mind was on other things, an attempt to distance herself from what was happening around her.

She wondered what Colin was doing, if he was having a good winter break. She was curious if his Yule was going as planned, if he was spending any time with that awful Rebecca Rounge.

Rebecca wasn't really that horrible, Lyra just wanted to hate her.

She thought about Ginny. She was sure to be having a good time, surrounded by family and people who would always care for her no matter what. Romilda, who despite how much her little sister Emma irked her, could indeed have the rare laugh with each other when alone. Lyra had thought she was hallucinating when she'd passed their compartment. It was only Romilda and Emma together, and they had been getting along. Lyra wasn't sure if she'd ever understand their dynamics because she had only seen them shown each other scorn before that.

Mary was an only child, the daughter of something called a nurse which Mary had explained as a health professional. Mary's father was something with money. He helped people budget. They had those in the magical world too, but there wasn't really a field open in that job. Mostly the goblins did it if asked when withdrawing money; for a small fee, of course.

"You seem nervous."

Her vision slowly refocused, cuing onto the familiar blonde hair of her older brother. She gave him a lackluster smile, dragging her eyes away from him. She never thought her father would not be here for this day. Mother had tried to pull every string imaginable but the ministry had remained adamant.

She couldn't halt the errant thought that it was not too late to back out of this.

Lyra was still terrified, dissecting her mother's advice from every angle imaginable in order to figure out exactly what mother meant about deviance. Perhaps Lyra didn't know as much as she thought she did. With Romilda and Ginny for friends she assumed she would know most things. The two enjoyed giggling into the night about what one boy or another had attempted to do with them. It was how Lyra had learned most the things she did.

"Draco," she said softly. "Mother mentioned something to me the other day."

He furrowed an eyebrow at her in question, fiddling with the collar of his shirt before giving her his complete, undivided attention.

"Mother said… that some people… that they did odd things to their spouses, and I don't understand what," she stumbled out in a breathy panic. "She said some people have preferences, and to always listen to Marcus no matter how odd the thing he tells me to do. Did you… perhaps hear anything odd about him?"

It took him a moment to truly comprehend what she was asking, and when he finally understood he burned as scarlet her cheeks had been for the whole conversation. Her fear overcame her embarrassment by a large margin, and it was not like he would gossip about this. He was the only person left she could ask, her only chance at understanding.

"Lyra!" he said in a loud whisper. "I'm not talking about this with you. You're my sister, my _little_ sister, and I don't want to know anything you may or may not do with _your_ husband."

"But I don't get-"

"I don't care!"

"Mother said he may be _deviant_. How can someone be deviant about that? I don't understand. What does that entail?" she asked miserably.

By this time his cheeks were as dark as the deep red velvet settee she sat upon.

"You're going to have to ask him."

"Why does everyone say that?!" Her voice was edged by hysteria.

"Because," he said in a woolen tone. "No one will know exactly what he prefers except you and him. Now please, I beg you, _change the conversation_." Draco gave a nervous twitch, gazing at everything in the room but her.

Her hands shook with nerves, but she did what she always does: pretend she wasn't afraid. So she bunched her fist in the flowy, supple fabric of her dress, forcing her eyes onto the corner of the mirror. She still couldn't stand to see what she looked like, and she didn't want to know. Seeing that may be the final factor that left a garish chink in the mask exposing her for what she truly was.

More terrified than words.

She didn't want to make things real, not yet. She wasn't ready. She would stay in her world of counterfeit emotions, managing to stay on that brink without falling over the edge and disappearing in the rush below.

Marriage couldn't be so bad, otherwise no one would do it. This must just be nerves, she said to herself in an attempt to relax. Everything will be perfectly alright. She would still be allowed to go to Hogwarts to finish out school, she could still speak to her friends in the concealment of their dorm. Perhaps even watching Colin from afar would be a pleasant experience. Maybe all that anger in her would finally dissipate and only longing would be in its place. Observing him from afar would be very agreeable then.

She couldn't remember the exact moment Draco laced his arm through hers, or how many people had made an appearance at her wedding. Strangely she could not recall one face from her memory as she walked down the silvery glitter-strewn isle.

As she stood on the alter, staring up at a beaming Marcus Flint with her right hand bound to his left, she had the bizarre realization that Trelawney's premonition had come true. Professor Trelawney had said she would be on the receiving end of riches, and if she had chosen Colin then she would have had no more money than the next wizard. Her prestige and monetary worth would have been stripped, and she would have had to work like most witches and wizards do.

A moment of helplessness encased her. She turned slightly, seeking her mother's familiar face. Mother appeared tense, gesturing with her head to the back of the hall where a blonde haired, middle aged reporter with jeweled spectacles sat furiously penning down words and taking pictures. Lyra finally caught on, attempting to force a smile upon her lips.

She feared it appeared to be more of a grimace.

Her thoughts were only disturbed when the wizened, old man presiding over their marriage announced them man and wife, unthreading the silky, white ribbon that had previously bound their hands loosely together and tugging it free.

She watched as it twisted and turned in the air, one side over the other, until it hit the luminescent wooden floor where it stayed. It moved only when her fiancé, no, _her husband_ , shifted his feet, stepping on one of its twisted edges.

The dull sound of applause filled her ears, the noise only increasing once her attention was brought back to her surroundings. She turned to Marcus, panicked and unsure. He gave her a doting smile, gesturing with his eyes to the audience where everyone was standing and politely clapping. She steadied herself, forcing on her face of fallacies and giving a practiced smile. They walked down the aisle together hand in hand, leading the guest to the ball room. A small orchestra was set in one corner, and at the end of the room a magical bar filled with self-replenishing drinks. A scattered amount of guest stood in there already, and they began a round of applause as soon as they realized the two newlyweds were in the room.

She wasn't certain exactly how long she stood taking everyone's words of congratulations. It was all an endless row of faces, one no more distinguishable than the other. She sat at her bridegroom's table, accepting them all.

Marcus nudged her slightly, nodding towards a dark haired, lumbering older male that cumbersomely made his way towards them.

"That is my uncle," Marcus murmured softly into her ear. "I'm surprised he even came. He must want something, that's the only reason he ever comes to anything."

She watched him approach, keeping a neutral expression upon her face. The man dipped down into a bow once he reached them, the smile on his face appearing to almost be mocking.

"Nephew! I haven't seen you in two years! It's so wonderful to see you again."

"More like five," Marcus said dryly. "But who's counting?"

His wicked eyes danced upon her form and her lips made a thin line of disapproval. "Mr. Flint."

He finally brought his gaze to hers with a slight smile. "Oh, don't be so distant. We're family now Lyra _Flint_."

He made it sound dirty, his eyes hinting at dark things that she did not understand. She fought to keep herself from appearing unnerved, straightening her back and pinning him with a questioning look.

"I must offer my congratulations, of course. We all knew you two would marry, but I never expected it to be this soon. It does make you wonder," he trailed off, taking a scrutinizing glimpse at her stomach before turned to Marcus. "Anyways, I must find your father. It appears I am in need of him."

They watched him go, both frowning. Marcus cleared his throat. "I wish my father would do something about him. Father's the head of our house, after all. It's a shame grandfather died so young. Father never struck fear into someone the way grandfather did. At least that's what I hear. Father tried to make matches for Uncle Daniel, but he refused no matter what father offered to give him." He let out a soft sigh. "Father says Uncle has always been tenacious, but has lacked the cunning to get what he wanted."

"It's a shame," she answered, taking a seat. She began fidgeting with her napkin. "Must we stay here the entire time? Can we not dance?" Anything to keep her mind from the direction it was beginning to take, to when it was late this night and the room would only hold the two of them.

He placed a kiss on her fingertips, pulling her up out of her seat and onto the dance floor. She knew Marcus didn't like very complicated dances, but he always agreed for her. Sometimes he even suggested it if he knew her mind was preoccupied with something, an attempt to distract her.

At least the journalist was gone. She was almost certain it had been Rita Skeeter, and that did not bode well for her. Lyra hoped she had been convincing enough. Lyra didn't want her to be stirring up trouble when there didn't need to be any.

"Do you feel any different?"

She brought her inquisitive gaze up to his. "Do you?"

He shook his head in amusement, his lips curling into a smile. "It feels new, fresh, to me."

She nodded, leaning her head against him.

"Tell me when you're ready to leave," he whispered.

She forced herself to remain relaxed in his arms. "Not yet," she decided, prolonging the inevitable.

"We're leaving the country for our honeymoon, going as far north as north goes," he said with a smirk.

She stared at him, taken aback. With everything going amuck in her mind she hadn't thought any on the actual _place_ they would honeymoon. For some reason she had assumed they would remain here in England.

 _To the cold?_ She had never heard of anyone having their honeymoon somewhere freezing. It had to be, considering Marcus had said they couldn't go any further north than where they were going. She wasn't expecting much based on that tidbit. She had always preferred mild seasons like Spring and Fall compared to Winter and Summer, but at least she would be there no longer than a week.

"Your mother packed your bag. I told her what you would need."

Her eyes narrowed. She was almost certain he was trying to convince her to leave. "What do you have planned?"

He gave her a teasing smile. "You'll have to wait and see."

She hesitated, shifting on the balls of her feet. "Do you have anything planned for tonight?"

When she realized what she said she blushed scarlet, looking everywhere but at him. His finger pressed her chin slightly towards him until they locked eyes once more. "Do not be shy about such things Lyra, we are now man and wife." He brought his face closer to hers, his eyes unhurriedly closing. She had a brief moment of trepidation, but it did not last too long. His lips touched her, curious and probing. Only a few seconds later he pulled away, brushing the stray hairs around her face behind her ear.

She realized in shock that it had been their first kiss.

He was nothing like Colin, so passionate and sure of himself. Marcus was strangely careful, he always had been with her. To him she was a glass doll, able to be broken by the simplest touch. He never placed his hands on her without thinking. It was always hesitant, his movements soothing.

He didn't want to frighten her.

She blinked a few times, leaning her head against him. She was a fool to not realize it sooner. Marcus would not hurt her, he never would. Lyra could probably say the worst thing imaginable to him and he would never lay one finger on her. She wasn't even sure if he would raise his voice.

She had been ready to bring herself to tears tonight. To beg him not to consummate this marriage, to give her some time to adjust. Any excuse not to lie with him. She was still frightened of the prospect, but now she did not dread it like she had only moments before. Marcus was a very large man, not only in height but in brawn too.

Marcus didn't even like to scowl in her presence, for Merlin's sake!

Normally that's all he did, but never around her. He always had a smile prepared for her when his sight rested on her being.

She laced her hand in his, staring up at him with all the Gryffindor bravery she could muster.

"I'm ready to go now."

He watched her passively, reading the emotions freely dancing across her face. His hand cupped her face, swallowing nearly half of it. "If you are certain."

"I am," she agreed before she lost her courage.

"Very well."

His hand dropped to hers, wrapping it in his own as he carefully maneuvered her out of the ball room. She had a moment of fear overcome her, recognizing this corridor as the same place the Dark Lord had cornered her. She cowered closer to Marcus, glancing around in paranoia.

Two bags sat illuminated by the stained glass framing the front door. One was foreign, black in color. The other was more familiar, green tipped in silver. She hadn't seen that bag in years, not since she was a child. She didn't realize she still had it.

He gently wrapped a cloak around her shoulders, lined with fur and spelled to keep the cold out, before grabbing his own.

"Were we supposed to sneak away like that?" she whispered as he closed the door.

A crooked smile adorned his face when he turned around. "Your mother will handle it… besides, I'm sure they'll understand."

She dropped his hand just before the anti-apparition wards, pulling away to stare solemnly at the place she had called home for the past sixteen years.

From now on she was to be a Flint, and the Flint home would be called her own. Her eyes dropped to the low window, the one that held a study. When she was five Draco had challenged her to climb out of it. She had been desperate for his affection then, and having even a glimmer of his attention thrilled her.

She had been a chubby child, with thick fingers and rounded cheeks that had been tinged red until she was seven. As soon as she had rolled herself out of that window she hit a flowerpot. Both Lyra and the porcelain container fell, her on top of it. Her cuts hadn't been pretty, and mother and father had never found out why she had done such a facetious thing. She protected Draco even then, fearing whatever punishment her parents may concoct for her brother.

She had flown into the large oak tree that sat to the left of their home, stranding herself on one of its behemoth branches that spiraled around its base. Her poor broomstick had become mulch for the flowers, and she had refused any help from Draco. He was flying a broom after all, and she no longer trusted those.

"Are you coming?"

She nibbled on the side of her cheek, shifting her body towards his until her hand could grasp his once more.

"Of course."

* * *

A/N: An extra chapter to celebrate 100 follows! This chapter is dedicated to chemicalflashes who figured out why this story is called "Behind the Veil." :D


	45. Chapter 45

Chapter 45

* * *

Lyra had been right to be frightened.

She tried to be brave, but her valiant efforts had gone flat as soon as he lied her down on the rose petal covered bed and spelled her robes open.

Tears had come aplenty then, and only the knowledge that no matter what this would one day happen prevented her from begging him not to touch her.

Marcus had tried, he truly did. As soon as the tears began to fall he paused, giving her some space. When he saw that did nothing for her nerves he breathed a great sigh, wrapping her carefully in his thickly muscled arms.

 _"All brides are nervous during their wedding night," he murmured into her ear. "Especially one's in our circles. I expected this, honestly. I would have been surprised if you hadn't lost a tear this night."_

 _She calmed slightly, quieting to listen to him._

 _"You are my wife, Mrs. Flint. I will always take care of you and do what I think is best," he promised._

 _"Will you… we're not…" she stumbled across her words, turning a faint shade of delicate pink. "We're not going to try for a child, are we? I just… I'm only sixteen. I'm not ready for that sort of thing yet."_

 _His eye bore into hers, a pitch black in the darkness. "Do not worry about that. I will handle it."_

 _Her eyes drifted to the window, relief filling her as she watched the luminescent snow slowly drifted diagonally across the windowpane. "Mother said that… you may have preferences, or be deviant. I don't understand what that means, and no one will explain it to me. Draco said I had to ask you," she trailed off, watching him unsure._

 _He frowned, rubbing at his chin. "If I didn't know your mother I would say she was trying to sabotage me. She must have been attempting to prepare you, but frightened you more than anything." His hand gripped hers in the darkness. "I won't do anything to you that you do not want. It is your body too, and I want you to be happy."_

Mother had warned her the first time would be painful, but Lyra hadn't expected it to be that bad. Mother had also said after the first time it would not hurt as much, but Lyra was not quite sure if she believed her mother anymore. Lyra had already been told her husband would do strange things to her, which he seemed quite normal in that department. He had done nothing Lyra didn't expect him to.

Romilda always enjoyed the act. In all the years Lyra had known Romilda the girl had never complained of shagging being painful. Lyra had honestly been expecting only some mild discomfort after her initial fears had been put to rest.

But it had not been so.

Lyra felt foreign in her own body, and parts of her ached that she never thought could. She didn't want to move, she just wanted to lie there until she absolutely had to get up. Marcus had left her alone since waking, leaving to get ready in the bathroom. She sat curled up in her bed, ignoring him. She wasn't angry with Marcus, it wasn't exactly his fault she was afraid.

She didn't want to have any type of sexual intercourse ever again, not if it was like that. She didn't want him to mistakenly think he was being encouraged to do that act.

She bit down on her cheek, pulling the blanket over her head and hiding once she heard Marcus twist the knob on the bathroom door. She wasn't sure if marriage life was anything to brag about based on this.

The bed creaked loudly as he sat down next to her. After a moment his hand caressed her side on the outside of the blanket.

"Are you okay?" he whispered.

Lyra's brows rose into "V's."

"I think so," she answered quietly.

The hand drifted over the comforter, ghosting down her leg then back up to her side, then repeating the process over again.

"I tried not to hurt you."

Lyra breathed in deeply, squeezing her eyes shut. "I know."

The blanket was tugged until her face was revealed. She wrapped the comforter beneath her arms, making sure it did not drift lower to reveal her breasts. He had certainly seen her last night, but daylight was different. Everything was so very obvious in it, and Lyra wasn't quite comfortable enough to be so open with him yet.

Marcus appeared worried, a frown tilting his lips lower. His hand ran across her bare shoulder. She watched as it drifted back and forth across her skin, not trusting him enough to look away.

"You should get dressed," he said finally. "I've got some things planned for us to do."

Lyra squinted her eyes at him in disbelief. It was freezing outside. Lyra had felt its fury as she had walked into the dimly lit pub last night. "What are we going to do?"

"You'll have to see," he said with a teasing grin.

Thankfully he gave her the space to get dressed alone, putting on her self-heating light blue shirt and full length green jacket. Her mother had also packed her a pair of boots. Lyra didn't own many of those, these were one of the few pairs that she did have.

They dined together quickly, Marcus' excitement spreading to her. When they were ready to go his arms wrapped around her, encasing Lyra in a cocoon of furs. "Deep breath in," he whispered in warning, apparating on the spot.

A rush of bone chilling cold slashed across her face, the only spot not covered up with warmth. Marcus had already thought of that, yanking a hat out of his pocket and pulling it over her head with a smile.

Her hand squeezed his in thanks, dropping their locked fingers to gaze at her surroundings. They appeared to be in the middle of nowhere, the icy snow surrounding them with not a structure in sight. A few roaming hills greeted her eyes, a welcome sight from the monotonous white dusted across the land. She turned back to Marcus in question, realizing that he had been watching her reaction the entire time.

"Thank you Marcus," she said quietly. "It is very beautiful."

Snow was in abundance where she lived, seeing it was not such a big deal to Lyra. She wasn't sure why Marcus thought she would like this. Surely she did not come off as a wilderness sort of girl, with her diamonds and silks and aristocratic background.

He let out an amused laugh, shaking his head and pulling her to the right. "I've not come here to show you this. There's something else here. Something that is hidden that I thought you would enjoy."

They walked about five minutes, nearing the edge of one of the hills. When she tore her gaze from Marcus she noticed an opening that strangely appeared to be filled with light. When going into a cave Lyra always expected it to be dark, and _lumos_ a must have spell in order to navigate. But inside she could see natural light with a slightly blueish tint to it. He covered her eyes when they were almost to the naturally occurring hole, Lyra gripping his fingers over her eyes nervously.

"Marcus, I don't want to trip." She let out a nervous giggle.

"You won't fall. I'm right here," he promised easily.

Her fingers tightened on his, but she did not argue. He carefully led her into the opening. The further they walked the more trepidation filled her stomach. She worried that he was going to show her a strange animal, or perhaps it was just more snow covered grass.

"I'm going to take my hands off your eyes, okay?"

She nodded her agreement, bending her knees a few times to burn some of the nervous energy.

He ripped his hands away, and Lyra could only stare. She looked wordlessly around her, twirling around in an unhurried circle to get a better view.

"How did you ever think to show me this?"

"Your mother told me you loved beautiful things. I thought you would enjoy this."

It certainly was beautiful.

"All this occurred naturally," he continued. "It looks to be made by magic, but it's not."

"How?" she said in awe.

Marcus shrugged. "I never thought to ask."

They were standing in an ice cave, but it felt more like they were underneath a frozen river. All around them the frozen water rippled in eternal waves. It was over their heads, on the sides of the cave… everywhere. The light from the sun pressings its waves through the ice lit the cave, but she wasn't so certain it was a cave anymore. From the outside she had assumed that, but there was no earth around them, only glistening ice and stray rivulets of water.

The cave was vast, at least the size of the Malfoy ballroom from one side to the other. It appeared to continue on for quite a while in the distance, as there was no end in sight. Nothing held the ceiling from caving in. There were no pillars or wood, or anything else for extra structure.

"It's lovely," she said breathlessly, sitting down on the hard, rock covered ground to stare up at the ceiling. She felt as if she were underwater. She followed the naturally occurring swirls in the ice, riveted as she noticed the stray orange or seaweed green laced within it.

It strangely was not as cold in here as it was outside even though they were surrounded by ice.

"This is one of the Skaftafell Ice Caves they have in Iceland. I showed you this one, but there are many."

She'd never seen anything so beautiful in her life. Not even the large rock on her finger that she had acquired in yesterday's ceremony beat this. Lyra was used to splendor, lavishness; but something so simple yet as intricate as this stunned her. She had never thought something like this could occur without the help of magic.

Marcus lied down next to her, his hand caressing the white blonde locks that poked from underneath her hat. She closed her eyes, feeling completely at peace.

Perhaps everything had begun at a rough start. Maybe she really could be happy with Marcus. She never though he'd ever be so thoughtful to show her something like this. She thought him senseless when he told her they were going to the cold, but now she couldn't imagine wanting to do anything else for her honeymoon.

She had to let go of Colin. It would only pain her in the end to clutch to him so, especially after he had already let go of her. This had to be her life now, and if she felt anything like this again she would count her marriage as successful.

Marcus pushed himself off the ground with a groan, holding out a hand to help pull her up. "I have something else to show you too."

She peered around her at the icy walls decorating each surface. "If it's anything like this I'm afraid I will be very overwhelmed."

He laughed, tugging at her hat playfully. "It will make you feel better, and it is just about the complete opposite of this."

She frowned in confusion. "Are we still going to be in Iceland?"

"Of course." His arms wrapped around her once more and they apparated. As they swirled those few seconds from one destination to the other, she realized he had all of this planned out. One could not apparate without having been to the destination beforehand. A lot of thought had gone into what Marcus was showing her, more than she ever expected him to put into their honeymoon.

She pulled away immediately to look around in excitement. She blinked in confusion, staring at the steaming, marvelously blue water in front of them.

"As you can probably tell by now, Iceland has many things people can enjoy." He heaved his jacket off, dropping it on the floor before doing the same to his hat. "People call this the Blue Lagoon. There's hot springs underneath here that warms the water year round. I also hear," he said, yanking off his shoes and shivering in the cold air. "That this water is very good for your skin." He gave her a knowing look, ripping off his shirt, socks, and pants in one go and vaulting into the water. A few droplets of the water splashed onto her, and she could feel through the jacket the warm temperature of the water.

"It's too cold to take my clothes off and jump into the water," she complained, squatting down next to the edge of the water. She pulled off one of her gloves, shoving her hand into the warmth the springs gave off.

"It's worth it," he said with a grin, his head hovering just above the water line.

Even though they were in the middle of winter, the water looked as if it were in the tropics based on how blue it was. Steam rose in the air in rivulets, warming her reddened cheeks and unfreezing her fingers which had previously been stiff with cold.

"Can I jump in with my clothes?"

"You can," he agreed dubiously. "But how well can you swim? All those wet clothes would drag you down."

Probably not very well. She knew how to, but that was about it. Lyra had not done much swimming in her life.

She warred with herself, debating the pros and cons in her mind of getting into the water versus staying out. After her brief argument with herself, she hurried to throw her jacket off, jumping around in a circle as she attempted to take off her shoes and jump into the water. She had only taken off her cloak, shoes, mittens, and hat. She was a witch, after all. She could get Marcus to dry her afterwards.

It was one of the most relaxing days she'd ever had. When they had gotten home Lyra worried herself silly over whether he would try to bed her again, but to her relief he had turned over and slept.

The next day he showed her an elusive animal only known to Iceland, called a Shell Monster. It was about the size of a hippo, with scales on its back and malty brown fur everywhere else. Its snout was rippled, and its eyes so large they looked as if they would fall out of its skull at any moment. It did well on both sea and land, and was a very rare animal.

The sailor on watch told them that this was the first time in more than fifty years they had managed to catch one. Some witches and wizards were studying it and then they planned to let it go.

They finished that day at an elusive restaurant. To her shock there was something on the menu called fermented shark. She should have never asked what fermented shark tasted like, but she had been curious.

The waiter told her carefully that it was an acquired taste, but most foreigners told him that it smelled and tasted like urine and rotten meat. How this was the national dish of Iceland, Lyra was not sure.

The rest of the week passed like this, each day Marcus showing her something new and interestingly beautiful. Oftentimes it was picturesque, other times it was something strange and bizarre. Like the Shell Monster had been.

Each night she expected for him to take his husbandly right, but he never did. Perhaps she had dropped enough hints on how she felt about that, as every time they were both in bed she would turn her back to him and pull the covers up. She would get to the very edge of the bed, her attempt at not giving him any ideas.

It was only the night before they left when he pressed for more.

"I'm tired Marcus. You had me climbing up and down all those waterfalls today. I just really want to sleep," she whispered as an excuse.

For a moment he said nothing, but then he heaved a great sigh. "I know our first night wasn't ideal for you, but you do not have to be frightened." Easy for him to say, he wasn't the one that had been in pain. "It is only the first time that hurts. After that there may be some soreness, but nothing like before."

She turned over to him, pulling the covers down. "How do you know that? Have you tested that before?" she asked in disbelief.

"Everyone says that only the first time hurts," he said with a shrug. "Why would the whole world lie about it?"

Lyra grimaced. "Why would everyone lie about how painful it is?"

"Were you not told it would hurt?"

"I was," she said carefully. "But they didn't say it would hurt so much that I'd never want to do it again."

Marcus peered at her through the darkness. He could watch her expression better than she could his. Marcus' back was to the window shadowing all of his features, where Lyra was bathed in moonlight.

"Did it really feel that good?" she asked hesitantly. She could tell he wished to push this, to try it again. But he did not want to force her.

"Yes," he answered in a reverent tone, his eyes darkening even further. "Tonight will be the last night we'll be together. You will be at Hogwarts, and I will not see you for months. Just once more before you leave?" A begging quality had interlaced in his voice, pleading with her.

Lyra clutched at her blanket, frowning when she realized to truth of his statement. They would not see each other much over the next few months, and he had been so wonderful to her. Everything had been meticulously thought out, and that had charmed her more than any luxury he could have bought her.

"If it hurts as bad as before you will stop?"

He agreed quickly, reaching over towards her to inch down the blanket. He placed a kiss at the corner of her lips, the warmth of his breath trailing down her throat.

Lyra stared up at the ceiling, staying immobile as he unhurriedly buttoned the front of her pajama top. The ceiling appeared to shimmer, swirling with hints of gold interlaced in it.

It couldn't be as bad as before. Romilda wouldn't lie to her.

* * *

A/N: I was unsure about this chapter. After the first edit it read a bit like a documentary for me. But my beta felt this chapter was important enough not to delete or try to add parts I felt were important in another chapter and I listened. There is now some extra details and character building because of it. Thank you everyone who reviewed and followed my story!


	46. Chapter 46

Chapter 46

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It had been nice to finally see her friends, her real friends. Not Rachel Bulstrode and Tracy Davis, who had simpered at how beautiful her wedding had been, but Ginny, Romilda, and Mary. She had missed them greatly.

"How was your wedding? We saw a few pictures in the Daily Prophet, but we wanted to hear about it from you."

"It was…" Lyra trailed off, attempting to find a good word to describe it. Honestly everything had blended together, and all she remembered was the grandeur and richness of it. "Elegant."

Ginny snorted. "I don't think girls are supposed to describe their weddings in such a simple way."

"Well it's not as if she wanted to get married. I think everyone could surmise that based on the photos Skeeter used," Mary said with an eye roll.

"Wait, what?" Lyra asked anxiously. "What did they look like?"

Ginny bent towards her trunk, throwing her an old copy of _The Daily Prophet_.

"You look terrified. It looked as if you were walking to a death march," Ginny commented.

Lyra paled as she took in the pictures spread across the newspaper. They had only used three, one of them had been of Lyra, another of her and Marcus as the ribbon was laced between their fingers. The last one was a random picture of the affluent decorations that had been strewn everywhere.

 _LYRA MALFOY AND MARCUS FLINT. A FORCED MARRIAGE?_

It was boldly written across the top for all to see, and it was an article on how archaic the betrothal system was. It used Lyra as a prime example of this, showcasing her obvious reluctance and if left to her own devices Rita Skeeter was willing to bet her career that Lyra would have chosen a nice guy from the light side. Skeeter drew all this from her being a Gryffindor and an 'exclusive interview' showcasing the 'real' Lyra Malfoy and not what she showed the public.

 _"You're saying Lyra would never hurt anyone?" Skeeter asked in disbelief. "Her family has always been a dark family, avid supporters of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Surely she is like most other pureblood girls?"_

 _"If Lyra had a choice she would get out of that whole mess."_

 _"Are you saying this marriage was forced?"_

 _"I never said such a thing. All I'm saying is if her family was okay with her choosing her own husband she would not have been looking at blood first."_

Lyra groaned heavily, covered her eyes with her arm in despair. Whoever had given that interview had not done her any favors. It spotlighted her already fraying family, and had been filled with mostly truths.

At least it wasn't on the front page.

"None of you did this, right?"

Romilda managed to look affronted, a fierce glare on her face. "I would never! You're my best friend. We wouldn't do something like that to you." Both Mary and Ginny nodded along.

"We have a pretty good idea on what's going on in your home life. We wouldn't want to get you hurt in any way," Mary added.

Lyra would have to manage her public face even more. Nothing but perfection could be viewed by the outside, otherwise they would pick her apart like vultures.

"How was your wedding night?" Romilda asked with a giggle.

"Romilda!" Ginny hissed. "You can't just ask her that?"

"Why not?"

Ginny rolled her eyes, giving up on their strange, curly haired friend. When Romilda realized she won she turned expectant eyes towards Lyra. "Well?"

Lyra squinted, scratching at her shoulder. "It wasn't what I expected."

"That tells us nothing," Romilda snickered, jumping onto Lyra's bed. "Tell me all the juicy details!"

Lyra winced, peeling her eyes away. "It was," she trailed off, glancing at her friends. As much as Ginny had tried to stop Romilda from asking this Lyra could tell Ginny had been curious. Mary was looking over her book with avid interest. "It wasn't how I pictured it would be."

"What did you expect?" Ginny asked inquisitively.

"I, well, I thought it would be a lot more… I don't know, prettier? Romantic?" she ended blandly. There had been a lot of grunting and ugly faces involved, and then there was the sweat… and the smell. Nothing had been pleasant about it. The second time had been better as it had not hurt as much. There had been some soreness, and a little adjusting as Marcus had entered her. She had made him hold still for that, which appeared to pain him. There was none of the pleasure that Romilda had once described to her, but at least it no longer hurt her. The day after she had gone back to her mother's to gather what was left of her things, Marcus had her once more on her childhood bed. She had been terrified her mother would walk in on them, but that prospect appeared to excite Marcus.

Romilda attempted to hold back her giggles, but she was not very successful. "Oh _Lyra_ , nothing is pretty about shagging. It's about how it feels, not how it looks."

"Why does everyone make it sound so very romantic then," Lyra asked timidly.

Romilda's face became blank, eyes blinking vapidly at Lyra. "I don't know. Maybe it makes for a better story?"

Lyra turned to Ginny. "What about you?"

Ginny shrugged. "I only shagged one guy, and I regret it. Michael is a right wanker. I don't know what I was thinking. I decided to wait for marriage after that. Obviously I'm not missing anything," she said dryly.

Asking Mary would be pointless, as she hadn't even kissed a boy.

Not all the teachers were so accepting of her marriage, especially Professor McGonagall. Not once has her professor called Lyra "Mrs. Flint" since Christmas break, it was always "Miss Malfoy." Lyra had given up correcting the obstinate woman. McGonagall always ignored her, or acted as if she didn't hear.

Lyra had taken to sitting with her brother for most meals. His friends always ignored her, which was what she wanted. Socializing wasn't a very high priority of hers at this point. She had too much on her mind.

Draco had managed to make himself look even sicklier over the month he had been away at Hogwarts. She was done arguing with him about it. Draco didn't want her help, and no amount of nit-picking and pressuring on her part would change his mind. He wanted to do this alone, at the very least without the prying of his sister. Sometimes he mumbled things that did not make sense. What Lyra managed to drag from his ravings was that he was getting closer to an idea, although it was not working. Draco was isolating himself, she just wasn't sure he was realizing this.

She avidly ignored Colin. His feelings had changed over the break, and now instead of watching her with lackluster eyes they were searching. She didn't want to know what was going on in that mind of his, all she knew is that she had to avoid him. If it wasn't cheating before it certainly would be now, and Lyra was not an adulteress. She had enough she had to live with already, adding that would only serve to make her feel worse about herself.

But it wasn't Colin's way to accept her avoiding him. When he wanted something he fought for it despite what odds may be stacked against him. Colin was irrational, foolish; deserving of a trophy for true grit. It was always a matter of time before he cornered her. Lyra only hoped she was prepared when that happened.

She was careful to correspond with Marcus regularly. She wanted this to work. She didn't want them to hate each other. Maybe one day they could learn to love each other. He had shown her such kindness so far in their short relationship. She didn't want that to change.

"Lyra, I have to talk to you."

She winced, screwing her eyes shut as she gathered herself. "I have nothing to say." She adjusted the strap of her backpack on her shoulder, refusing to turn around.

"Well I do. I think you at least owe me that."

She didn't know if she should feel so horrible when he said that, but she did. Colin was a trap, and she somehow always managed to get caught in it.

She didn't answer him, instead walking in the direction of the room they had met up at when they were lovers. Lyra hadn't had the nerve to pass through this hallway since she had ended their tryst.

She placed her items on the desk, wrapping her arms around her waist protectively as she stared in front of her at the artless wall. She could hear Colin as he closed the door quietly. A bleak silence filled the room, only attempting to be filled when Colin's footsteps began echoing through the room. The hairs on her neck raised. He was a few paces away from her, but even from this distance her body was aware of him.

"I tried to take your advice," he began. "I really did, but it wasn't that easy. Rebecca was… she's a nice girl, but she couldn't measure up to…" he trailed off, leaving the rest of his sentence unspoken and obvious. "We broke up," he said finally. "I thought dating her would make everything easier, but it did nothing."

Lyra was shocked to hear the two had ended their relationship. Surprisingly she hadn't noticed, with her avoiding him like a Hungarian Horntail and all.

"Please look at me," he begged, his voice raw and cracking, grating on her. She blinked a few times to keep any tears attempting to plunge from the recess of her lids before obliging him.

His eyes were red from unshed tears, his expression miserable. That searching look was upon his face again, the one Lyra didn't understand. She wasn't sure if she wanted to. It was penetrating, thoughtful, and just a hint of unsure. His gaze pierced her down, making her breathless. She had to take a deep, calming breath in to steady herself.

Her eyes dropped down to his lips, and then back up. She could tell he had caught the motion, because as soon as she did it he stepped forward, wrapping his arms around her and pressing his mouth to hers in a bruising kiss.

For a moment all thoughts slipped from her mind, and instinct guided her. These weren't the kisses they had before in hidden classrooms and dark corners. It was raw and rough, the gnashing of teeth and the wrenching of hair. Of fumbling hands and bodies pressed tightly together, a seam so endless that there was no end or beginning.

It was the personification of anger.

But then she realized where she was, and who she was kissing. She threw herself away from him as if his touch was blistering. But it was already too late. The damage had been done, and the taste of his lips had already branded her.

"Merlin Colin!" she burst out in tears, wiping at her face. "The Dark Lord is back and all you can think about is this! Does it not scare you? Do you not have any fear at all? All the Dark Lord would have to do is snap his fingers and you would be dead! We both would! I'm _married_. I'm with Flint. I just, oh Godric, I just cheated on my husband," she whispered horrified.

"I'm so sorry, Lyra. I can't help it! I _love_ you! I want to be with you, and I don't care about the rest."

Her thoughts were racing. Her first instinct was to tell Marcus no matter the consequence. She couldn't live like this, knowing she was lying to her husband. They had to be truthful to one another in order for this to work. But she went eerily cold as she realized what that would entail. Even if he forgave Lyra, Colin's life would be forfeited. Marcus may never physically hurt her, but that did not extend to the rest of the population. He would kill Colin, she could feel it.

"Why would you do this Colin," she whimpered. She had trusted him so implicitly, but she realized he was not only to blame. Ginny had warned her against this in the very beginning, but Lyra had been so bull-headed. She had always known she would one day regret all this, and today was the day.

"Lyra, just please," he begged, clutching her hands in his. "Hear me out, I-"

"No."

She felt cold all over, as if her veins had traded warmth for a wintery frost.

"I won't hear anything Colin. We're done. We're though. I'm not doing this anymore. From now on, we will be nothing," she said callously.

His jaw flapped open as she wrenced her hands out of his, grabbing her bag and walking out the door.

When she made it to the sanctuary of her room she began to thaw, eyes watering once more. She had to do it. Colin would never listen otherwise. She had been giving him hope all along, and she had to put a stop to this. It would break his heart even more, but he would heal. He would be alive.

This secret was her curse to bear. She had done it to herself.


	47. Chapter 47

Early chapter for all the reviews I got last chapter! :D

* * *

Chapter 47

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She had to keep her hypothetical mask on at all times. People would know her secrets otherwise. They would use them against her. They were perilous thoughts, better kept for the darkness of the night. She had to act as if everything was perfectly fine, because otherwise people would begin to question her. They would dig, and if they dug deep enough they would find all the treacherous riddles that made up Lyra Druella Flint nee Malfoy.

She didn't want to die. She didn't want Colin to either, so pretending was the only thing she could do.

"What is going on in that mind of yours," Marcus whispered, his eyes searching.

She felt her lips give the slightest tremble and she clenched her teeth. "I'm tired, Marcus. That is all."

She was on a visit at Hogsmeade, and both of them had decided to meet at _The Three Broomsticks_. Marcus had managed to take off work for a few hours. Having his father as his employer always had its perks.

She hastily brought her cup of butterbeer to her lips, hiding herself from him.

"Come with me." He didn't wait for a response, grabbing onto one of her arms and pulling her after him. They walked up a set of stairs that Lyra had not even known were there, leading to a few rooms inside the inn. He immediately wrapped his arms around her in a tight embrace once the door had closed, letting out a sigh. She felt herself loosen, clutching the butterbeer she hadn't bothered to let go of tightly in her fist and hugging his waist.

His fingers ran through her hair. She peered up at him, leaning her chin against his chest as his hand caressed her scalp. "Are you sure you're alright?" he asked once again.

She turned her gaze back into his chest, unwilling to answer. She had to live with this guilt. It was the price of Colin's life. He may have initiated the kiss, but Lyra hadn't fought him about it. At least not at first.

"I did not sleep well last night." She hadn't for the past few nights, her mind always running off on strange tangents. To put icing on the cake she had been feeling weird lately. She couldn't even describe it, all she could say was she didn't like it. It shouldn't be surprising considering how many emotions had been running amuck through her lately.

He kissed the top of her head, picking her up in his arms and laying them down upon the bed. She burrowed into his chest, closing her eyes.

"I've missed you," he admitted lowly, his breath steady against her.

Lyra brought her eyes up to his. "Show me."

She needed a distraction, anything from the thoughts that flew lackadaisically through her head. She wanted freedom from them, peace and quiet. Perhaps she didn't deserve it, but she sorely needed it.

He chuckled softly against her skin, fingers trailing down her skin and going to work.

* * *

Ginny and Romilda had proven themselves to know exactly what Lyra had been up to during Hogsmeade, letting out a barrage of giggles and innuendos as soon as they saw her. Lyra had burned scarlet, trying to figure out exactly how they had worked it out. She had spent an insurmountable amount of time fixing her hair in that dingy bathroom, something she was a bit irritated with Marcus about. Her clothes were in their normal, pristine condition. No crinkles or folds in the fabric. The only thing she could think of was the flush in her cheeks, but that could have been from the wind, or even the numerous flights of stairs she had climbed coming up.

Lyra decided she didn't want to know how they had worked it out, her best plan of action being fastidiously ignoring them.

She had been relieved to know shagging only got better. She had felt no pain this time, only mild discomfort. She was almost certain something had felt good about it, but she wasn't so sure.

What she did know was it was a good distraction, because as soon as his lips ran across hers all thoughts of Colin had vanished.

The next few days her mind was wrapped around this, fluctuating between being irate with herself for attempting to bury Colin and being happy to do so. It was like a blast-ended screwt: either side burned her. One moment she thought she should forget Colin and ignore his existence. It would be best for them that way. Other times she thought of everything he had made her feel, everything she still did feel. She could attempt to hide it all she wanted but feelings did not vanish that quickly.

Colin was done being angry with her. Now only hurt was in its place. It was worse for him to feel that. He was no longer himself. He was quiet, he didn't take pictures anymore. She no longer heard his uproarious laughter from down the table.

Lyra never caught him looking her way either. He appeared to have given up on everything. As much as Lyra wished to help him out of this, she couldn't. She had placed this aura on him herself. She had decided this was the best. She had to accept whatever the repercussions were.

"I know you know," a familiar, grating voice called from behind her.

Ron Weasley sat glowering at her a few feet away, Potter to his left. She let out a dramatic sigh, rolling her eyes. "Know what Weasley?"

He took a few steps closer, Potter matching him per step reluctantly. The know-it-all was nowhere in sight. "About Malfoy. You know what he's up to."

"Ron, shut up. Would ya?" Potter said in irritation, glaring at Lyra.

"I'm sorry to say I have no clue what you're talking about Weasley," she announced, feigning innocence.

She had actually figured out what Draco was up to about two weeks ago, piecing together all his strange ramblings that had never made sense until then. She knew telling Draco she had worked out what he planned to do would only alarm him, so she kept silent. She wasn't sure why fixing a cabinet was so important, or why the Dark Lord would give him such an inconsequential task, but it was the only thing that made sense.

Weasley took a step towards her, his eyes pleading with hers and losing their usual tinge of anger when engaged with her. "I don't wanna fight with you. I only want answers." Potter went to interrupt his friend, but Weasley shrugged him off. "You know what's going on, there's no point in denying it. Voldemort is back, and we're only asking for a bit of help to get rid of him."

Lyra was speechless, staring wide eyed at the boy that always seemed to scorn her. He was being so level headed, completely unlike him when it came to her.

"It took me a while to realize you're not the enemy. Well, actually, Hermione helped me realize it but never mind that," he said distracted. "The point is you know. You could save lives by telling us. No one even has to know that it was you that gave up the information. You can just tell us, and you help us save the world."

Her jaw made a cracking noise as she grated it, taking a deep breath in. She despised that he was right. If she wasn't so selfish she could end this war before it got worse. No one would have to die, no one would be in pain. People like Neville Longbottom would still have their parents if someone like Lyra had stepped up in the last war.

But she couldn't.

Telling Potter and Weasley meant betraying her family. Father was already behind bars, her brother wasting away. She couldn't do anything else to them. Not now, not ever.

She turned her back to the two-thirds of the Golden Trio standing behind her, blinking back tears. If she were a real Gryffindor she would be able to tell them everything. She would sacrifice the few for the many despite how much it pained her. She would choose good over evil every time.

But she was only a Hufflepuff as she'd found out from the sorting hat, decorated in crimson and plated with gold. Lyra knew the evil side. She knew they weren't as bad as everyone made them out to be.

"You're not crying, are you?"

The boy behind her sounded terrified, incredulous. His question made her let out a tiny sob, her shoulders heaving with the motion. She could fix everything if she had the courage to do it.

"Err, look. We didn't wanna make you cry," Ron muttered nervously. "We just wanted you to… talk."

"Ronald Weasley! What are you doing?!" a familiar red head screeched. Ginny's arms wrapped around her protectively and Lyra gave up holding back her tears. "Just you wait! You're going to have arms for ears when I'm through with you!" she hissed.

Ronald Weasley appeared alarmed, covering up his ears with his hands in a panic. "It's not my fault! She started crying and I didn't know what to do!"

Ginny tutted at him, pulling Lyra down the hall. Lyra was hysterical at this point, lost in her thoughts of how easy it would be to end this war if only she had the strength to do it. She now knew all these lives were in her hands also. She wasn't abstaining from the movement, she was helping it. Ginny had always been right, and her inaction was more influential than she ever thought it could be.

"Come now!" Ginny whispered. "Up to Madame Pomfrey's. She'll give you a Calming Draught and everything will be alright."

Madame Pomfrey was stirred into action as soon as she saw Lyra, fussing over her the moment she stepped over the threshold. "What happened?"

"I don't think she's hurt. She just needs a Calming Draught."

Madame Pomfrey swished her way over to a cabinet, skirts following her every motion. She came back in record time with a potion.

"Here we go. Drink it up. I'm going to do a few diagnostic tests on you as you take it."

It took a moment for Lyra to calm enough to take the potion without choking on it. The taste was absolutely dreadful. But she managed to get it down, blocking out Pomfrey as she ran her test.

The effects were instantaneous, and she hiccupped as her cries abated and she became eerily quieted. She turned to Pomfrey, looking her over. She appeared troubled, her nose scrunched and her eyes hesitant. The matron stared at her a few moments before sitting down next to her.

"Ginny, dear. I think you should leave for a moment."

Her friend hesitated, but listened, heading towards the door and silently closing it.

Poppy Pomfrey's eyes stared into Lyra's, probing. "I hear you've gotten married recently."

Lyra nodded, feeling oddly tired.

"To Marcus Flint. Ah, I remember him. He placed more students in here than I'd care to remember. He can be quite dangerous when he wants to be."

Normally Lyra would be offended, or swiftly deny what Pomfrey was alluding to. But her thoughts were so sluggish.

"Marcus wouldn't hurt me," she said finally.

The matron stared at Lyra, attempting to read her body language. "I should hope so. What are you plans regarding him, if I am not prying too much?"

Lyra swallowed thickly, feeling strangely off-kilter. The Calming Draught had an odd effect on her, or perhaps this is what it was meant to do. "I suppose what most people want from marriage. To have happiness, to love each other, to eventually have children."

Poppy nodded, watching her with a worried expression. "What would you think about having that last one?"


	48. Chapter 48

Chapter 48

* * *

Professor McGonagall sat staring at her beneath lowered spectacles, the teacher's posture stiff and reproving. Lyra mirrored her, tilting her chin to the side in a soundless challenge. McGonagall's eyes darted the pieces of paper she held in her hands, shuffling through them silently.

"I'm assuming you do not wish to do anything with Ancient Runes, as you've gotten a Troll for a grade in that class."

Lyra turned slightly to the left, staring at the wall with an emotionless expression. She had picked up the class this year just to fill something with her schedule and had given up on it after finding out about her engagement. It took a lot of studying in that class to get any good grade, and Lyra found herself unwilling to put in the effort when nothing would come of it.

"The only "O" you've gotten is in Divination." The head of Gryffindor was unable to hide the distaste that spread across her face. It was well known that Professor McGonagall thought Divination was all a bunch of made up nonsense.

"Your grades in all your other classes have slipped except in Potions. You're still maintaining a passing grade, although you no longer get your usual Exceeds Expectations in it."

No, now Lyra got Acceptables, but that was probably because Snape still favored her over the other Gryffindors. She was his goddaughter after all, even though they were not that close. Draco and Professor Snape had always been much closer. The professor had maintained his distance from her; and she, him. Part of her thought it was because she was a girl and the fact unnerved him. He didn't have much experience with children, let alone girls.

"That doesn't matter," Lyra muttered carelessly.

McGonagall appeared to become incensed, glaring down at the girl before her.

"Now Miss Malfoy, I know your situation may not seem-"

"It's Flint," Lyra interrupted with a glare. "I don't know why you have such difficulty memorizing it. You taught a Flint not too long ago, the same one I am married to."

"That being so," McGonagall continued unperturbed. "Being married does not put an end to everything. You don't have to be a stay at home mum. You can be whatever you'd like to be if you set your mind to it."

Lyra could not hold back her mocking laughter, staring up at the ceiling. The two of them were worlds apart, and McGonagall could not even see that. It's like she did not even recognize what purebloods had been doing all these years, even though she had grown up in the magical community herself.

"I'm pregnant."

The professor strickened, her face losing its healthy sheen.

Oh, how absolutely infuriated Lyra had been to learn that. It had taken a while for the Calming Draught to wear off, but when it did she raged. Marcus had promised to take care of everything. He had promised to make sure she would not get pregnant, yet here she was.

She had sent a howler to him, screeching her heart and soul into it. All his words were glass to her now, broken by the careful knock of a stone. She would never trust him again. He knew how she felt about children, yet he still did not listen to her. Lyra didn't deserve this. She didn't deserve to be pregnant at sixteen. Now she knew that she was only a brood mare to him, something to bed and create life with. All his pretty words were meant to disarm her, and they certainly had.

He had betrayed her. It hurt so much to know this.

He wouldn't answer her on why he did it, only telling her to meet him during the next Hogsmeade trip. She would certainly meet him, and then she would tell him exactly what she felt. Maybe then he would feel as horrid as she did. She hadn't realized how much she had grown to care for him until this happened.

She would never love him. She vowed this. She couldn't love someone that could use her so callously.

It made sense why she had burst into tears so easily at Ronald Weasley's confrontation. Learning that Colin's best friend Daniel McGee had done the exclusive interview was icing on the cake at that point. Ginny had found out. She said he had done it in the hopes that Lyra would realize what she was giving up by marrying Flint.

Foolish muggleborn. Didn't he know that she had always known exactly what she would lose?

She was beyond caring. Her mother had sent her a letter of congratulations the other day, telling her that Flint had already notified her of the pregnancy.

Part of her was sorely tempted to get rid of the baby. She didn't want it, nor did she need it.

Yet, strangely, she had already began to become fond of it. When alone she spoke to it in derision, telling it all she had lost because of it. But she would caress her flat belly as she did, a touch of affection in her tone.

Sometimes she would lie in bed after her roommates went to sleep and cry. Lyra was clueless. She thought she would have a few years to prepare for this moment. She didn't know the first thing about babies. She didn't know how to feed them or change them or to make them stop crying. Babies were obnoxiously loud and uncultured. How would she even begin to train it for pureblood society?

She should make Marcus do that. He had been the one to decide to put it in her after all. She'd had no say in the matter. She would never sleep with him again. In fact, she planned to go to her old room that was girlishly pink and filled with strange perfumes. She would make it her own, as she had decided to have nothing to do with Marcus.

"That may be," McGonagall said, gaining her footing. "But-"

Lyra raised a hand, silencing her. "I've just had a revelation." She paused, turning to look at her teacher of six years. "This appointment was useless. I don't even know why I came."

She stood up, not waiting for a response. She didn't care anymore. She was pregnant. The point of going back to Hogwarts was to avoid a situation like this. McGonagall could expel her for all she cared. It would make no difference to Lyra.

Lyra was almost certain this was how Colin had felt about her after she broke things off. He had been angry, taking his ire out on people all around him. Lyra had a short fuse these days. Everything seemed to annoy her. Even her friends.

Their lives were so perfect. No one would ever forced them to get married. None of them had to lie with a man six years their senior and bear him children at the mere age of sixteen. All of them had a choice, they had a life to live. Hers had already been decided. She had fooled herself into thinking she ever did choose.

She still hadn't told her friends the news. She couldn't bring herself to do it, too afraid of their reactions.

Lyra was filled with hate, and she knew she was becoming irrational but she couldn't bring herself to care. She felt like she deserved to be able to feel anger about this. She bid her days until the Hogsmeade trip, counting each one by one as she stewed silently. By the time it came Lyra was frightfully calm. Marcus had enough sense to not have their first meeting in public, instead owling her the number of one of Madame Rosmerta's rooms.

She stood in front of the door, jaw clinched and eyes burning with fury. Her expression was carefully blank, she knew if she showed any degree of emotion she would lose it when she saw him. She clutched the door knob in her hand tightly, ensuring that she held her composure before opening the door.

He sat on the queen sized bed, staring at his hands in his lap in deep thought. He didn't startle as she opened the door, nor as she closed it. She surveyed him a moment before walking over to the window to peer out of it.

"How have you been feeling?" he probed carefully.

She glared between the blinds, shocked that he'd even have the audacity to ask her that. She had made her feelings very clear for the past few weeks.

Lyra remained silent. Marcus could work his question out on his own.

"Have you been having any morning sickness?"

Lyra walked over to the chair farthest away from the bed, sitting down and folding one leg over her knee and neatly clasping her hands. Lyra was in her element. She hadn't faced a political opponent in a long time, and this is what this was now. Marcus had changed them to this.

Lyra now knew the answer to the question she asked herself long ago: No. A husband did not count as family. All she would have is whatever children she had with him, and hopefully this was the only one. Lyra never wanted to be intimate with him again. She did not trust him with her body, didn't have faith in anything regarding Marcus anymore.

"Why Marcus, I'm surprised you care." Her tone held a small degree of bite to it. Marcus forced his head up in surprise, finally bringing his gaze to her. He appeared shocked for a moment, his jaw dropping slightly and eyes widening at her firm stance.

"Lyra?" he asked hesitantly, rolling his eyes up and down her frame rapidly. She remained rigid in her chair, staring him down.

"What do you have to tell me this time? I must warn you I most likely won't believe whatever poppycock you decide to spew out your mouth. You enjoy your lies, don't you?"

His eyes held grief, his shoulders slumping further with each word uttered out of Lyra's mouth. She felt triumphant. If he even felt a modicum of what Lyra had felt this past month she would view this encounter as successful.

Lyra moved her leg slightly, carelessly breaking eye contact. "I think I'll stay at mother's for the duration of my pregnancy. Perhaps even longer." Anything to keep away from him.

"You weren't supposed to hate me," he whispered frail. "I never thought that- that you'd react like this."

She growled lowly in her throat, her eyes aflame. "What did you expect me to feel? Overjoyed? I've always known you were fatuous but I didn't realize you were this bad."

He ran a hand haphazardly through his hair, frustrated. "I suppose I deserve that."

She gritted her teeth, attempting to keep her calm demeanor. Her entire body tensed with the effort.

"I know that in a marriage that we should speak truths to each other, I know that. But I was told to keep quiet about this," he whispered.

Lyra snorted, unable to help herself. "What? Keep the fact that I'm pregnant quiet?" she scoffed. "Like that will happen. Not only did you get me pregnant at sixteen, but you _shamed_ me. Do you know what everyone will think? Every single person will think this is a shot-gun wedding, that I couldn't keep my legs closed from some _brute_ of a man that prefers his fist to a wand! I'm going to be a laughing stock. They all suspected this was the reason I was married so young and now they will believe this as truth. Not only have you ruined my life and forced me to be a mother, but I have lost whatever reputation I had."

"I'm sorry Lyra. I didn't think about that," he said raggedly.

"No," she hissed out viciously. "Of course you didn't think of something so _obvious_. That would take half a brain!"

"You know what? Fine! Be angry! You deserve to be, but I'm not going to take all the blame for this!"

Lyra stood up in anger, shaking her finger at him uncontrollably. "Oh don't you _dare_ suggest that I was part-"

"I wasn't saying that," he interrupted. "It wasn't me. I never wanted to get you pregnant this young. I know you wanted more than to just be a pureblood wife. That much was obvious."

Her hand lowered and she stared at him in disbelief. "Are you suggesting-"

"What I'm saying is that this was demanded of me. I was told if I didn't get you pregnant within six months of marriage that I would somehow lose you. Even though you would be my wife, they would rip you away from me. There was pressure, and then he threatened my father's business… which will someday be mine," he trailed off, glancing at her. "Ours," he corrected.

She watched him wordlessly, unable to soak in what Marcus was telling her.

"The Dark Lord," she whispered, her shoulders slumping. "He demanded this of you?"

Marcus glanced up in surprise. "No. Why would you say that? The man that demanded it was your father."


	49. Chapter 49

Chapter 49

* * *

Family and love. It was all such rubbish.

She had held implicit trust in her father, and to betray her like this… sometimes she liked to think Marcus had lied to her. But she knew he hadn't. It made too much sense, and when she went over their conversation that night in her mind she realized he never actually promised her anything. Marcus had only said he would 'take care of things.' She had taken that to mean he would be careful to not impregnate her, not any other meaning. He had never broken her trust, it had been her father that had.

She was lost. Whatever had grounded her was no more, and she no longer could figure out any plan of action to go from here. Her mother had to have been involved. Unlike her and Marcus, her parents always talked over things before coming to a decision. Sure, Marcus promised to never withhold anything like that from her again.

But the damage had already been done.

She was almost certain Draco had been more shocked than Lyra was when she told him. He had stared in disbelief, his hands twitching with pent up energy. He finally gave up, making a strangled noise and darting away. Lyra hadn't taken his dismissal badly. She had reacted far worse than he had, and Draco already had a lot on his thoughts.

Her stomach began to show, becoming more and more obvious until one day Mary asked if she was pregnant. When Lyra spoke no words of denial she knew the answer. Ginny pitied her. Lyra could tell that Ginny wished she could do something to help Lyra, but Lyra was beyond it at this point. Mary had attempted to take it in stride, trying not to make too much of a big deal over it.

Romilda had been overjoyed, the strange creature that she was.

Lyra never made an official announcement of her pregnancy, but at almost four months it was hard to deny. Once Marcus had told her the truth in a moment of weakness she had sought out Hogwart's Potion master, begging him for a potion that would end her pregnancy.

He had stared at her in astute shock, but regained his bearings swiftly enough.

"You understand what that means?" he probed carefully.

She nodded quickly, desperate enough to beg. "Of course I do." She would be giving up her first born, and possibly risking her father's wrath. But she didn't care any about what her father had to say. He had shown by his actions he had never regarded her as much more than a prized pony to be bred to the gaudiest of steeds.

"Very well," he said in that quiet voice of his. "In two weeks' time come back to my office. I will have it then."

She had only gotten far enough to take the potion from Professor Snape, but when the time came to drink it she could not bring herself to. She had flung it against the wall in frustration, breaking down into tears. She was so very angry. She hurt so much. But she realized ending this life would not make her situation better.

She refused all her visits to St. Mungo's her mother attempted to schedule. Lyra didn't want to see her. That woman had betrayed her as much as her father, and Lyra wasn't ready to hear about anything regarding the baby. Mother had threatened to pull Lyra out of school if she didn't go to the next one, and Lyra had been overjoyed to prove her mother's power not so strong.

 _You forget mother,_ she had pinned with glee. _I am no longer yours to command. Do you not remember when I walked down the aisle not even six months ago? You sold me to him, and you lost your rights over me that very moment._

A few days later she had gotten a brief letter from Marcus begging Lyra to go to the appointments her mother was rescheduling. Lyra had gone then, but only because Lyra knew she had come out victorious from that fight. The fact that her mother had to ask Marcus to get her to do anything would have surely grated on her mother, who was used to getting everything she wanted at the drop of a knut.

Mother had still been disgruntled when she came to get Lyra, and neither of them said much of anything to each other the whole time.

The doctor had announced the baby appeared healthy, and was to be a little girl. That moment was when everything became real for Lyra, when she finally had her moment of clarity.

It was her daughter that sat inside her stomach.

Mother did not seem as pleased. She could tell her mother had been hoping for a boy, an heir for the House of Flint.

Lyra did not care for such things. This was her family she was creating, not her mother's. It didn't matter what the gender was, and a girl could still inherit pureblood estates. People always seemed to forget that, fanatic as they were for their "male heirs."

The fact that she was sixteen, that it had not been her choice. That ceased to exist in her mind. She only cared for her child's health. Everything else paled compared to that. Lyra had thought that she had been helpless. That it had never been her fate to choose her destiny.

But she could begin to with her little girl.

She was such a tiny thing on the picture that showed up after the healer murmured her spell, so circular and transparent. So miniscule and weak, like a bubble. Lyra would always protect her child. Lyra would make sure no one ever hurt her, and that Marcus would not use their child as Lyra's father had used her. Her daughter would have a choice, no one would be promised to her. It was the first thing Lyra had demanded of Marcus, and he had readily agreed. He was desperate to do anything to get back in Lyra's good graces.

"Lyra, there's something I need to tell you," Ginny said nervously. "Now before you run off being irrational and all, I want you to think about your baby."

Lyra watched Ginny in confusion. "Ginny, I have no clue what you're talking about."

"I know, I just- I don't want you to go all crazy like you usually do when your brother gets hurt."

Lyra tensed, uncertainty on her face. "What happened to Draco? Is he alright?"

"I- yes? I think so? I, um, he's in the hospital wing."

Lyra didn't wait for Ginny to finish, racing out of the common room and up the stairs to the hospital wing. The doors slammed against the stone walls as she pried it up, too impatient to do it softly.

Madame Pomfrey came scuttling out of her office, yammering about how Lyra needed to be quiet. But Lyra's gaze remained on the deathly pale cheeks of her brother. He remained immobile, his lips an unhealthy tinge.

"What happened to him?" she whispered finally. Was this the Dark Lord's doing? Had Draco finally displeased the Dark Lord and this was the result of it?"

"He was attacked with a dark curse-" Lyra took a deep, startled breath in. "-by a fellow student."

Her jaw clenched in fury, the only visible response. She walked over to her brother, sitting down on the bed and rubbing his arm through the blanket. She turned to Madame Pomfrey, pinning her down with a relentless stare. "Who did it?"

The matron appeared unnerved, clutching at the front of her uniform nervously. "Nothing you need to know, dearie."

Lyra stood up, taking advantage of every centimeter of height her body had. "You will tell me," she demanded. "You will tell me or else there will be consequences."

Pomfrey stiffened. "You- You think to threaten me?" she asked incredulously. "You can be expelled for such a misdemeanor!"

Lyra took a threatening step towards her, eyes unblinking. "And you think that bothers me? My brother lies in the bed as still as death and you think I care about such a trivial thing as my _learning_? I'm afraid I stopped worrying about that when I found out I was to be married."

Lyra's lip twitched at her slip up. No one could know she was practically forced into this marriage. There could be repercussions from that for her family. Thankfully, the middle aged woman had not picked up on what her words truly meant. "You will tell me now!" Lyra screeched suddenly, losing her temper.

"I'm afraid I must interrupt this inevitable confrontation," a wizened old voice called from behind her.

She gritted her teeth, turning around to the last person she wanted to see at the moment. "Get out of my way Dumbledore, I'll figure it out myself."

The headmaster sighed tiredly, pulling a wand out calmly from the folds of his dark maroon robes.

Lyra snarled, marching up to him. "Do you think I'm afraid of you, you old geezer!"

Dumbledore stared steadily into her eyes, his own rimmed with sadness. "No, I think you are feeling a bit reckless at the moment. You've had a bit of a shock understandably, and I think it would be wise for you to sit down."

"You don't scare me," she hissed between clenched teeth. Any other moment he would have, but Lyra was beyond reason.

"No, I'm afraid you're beyond the point of being frightened of an old man."

She watched him hesitantly, unsure what to make of his words. Deciding the best course of action would be to ignore him, she marched past him. But the double doors slammed ominously shut before she could reach them.

"Let me out," she commanded in a cold tone.

"I'm afraid I can't do that," he answered congenially.

Lyra ripped her wand out of its holster, turning around in rage. "LET ME OUT! I DEMAND YOU TO-"

It seemed as old and feeble as Dumbledore appeared, charred hand and all, he was still faster than her. For a moment the ground came looming towards her, but just before she could collide with the hardened stones that had once been beneath her feet she was frozen, lifting up higher in the air before being gently placed on the bed.

"I had an inkling something like this would happen."

A shadow draped itself across her, but no matter how hard she fought not one muscle would move to see who it was.

"I'd say it was more than an inkling, headmaster. She's always been touchy when it came to her brother."

Dumbledore groaned wearily, the sound hollow in her ears. "There's only one thing to be done. Hogwarts must remain a safe environment for my students."

She did not get to hear the end of the conversation, for not even a second later the sleeping spell was whispered over her helpless body.

* * *

A/N: Another early chapter for all the wonderful reviews I've been receiving! Thank you all so much, I really do love ready them.

For an update I've finally begun writing my original fiction story I've been outlining and world building for two years now. I plan on publishing it eventually but I don't think it will be anytime soon. I revise and edit my stories too much for anything to be quick about. The title is still a work in process but I do plan on publishing it on fictionpress for some initial feedback before sending it out. If I begin posting it while this story is still in motion I'll make sure to tell you all here.


	50. Chapter 50

Chapter 50

* * *

"How did your day go?"

"It was fine, there was a bit of a conflict between two customers but I was able to handle it easily enough."

"That's good."

Lyra had never thought her life would be so mundane, but here she was. Things between her and Marcus were still fragile, Lyra not quite willing to completely trust him. Marcus realized this and gave her space, not prying too much.

Dumbledore has kicked her out of school.

He stated that he didn't feel like his students could be safe if anything were to happen to her brother, because Dumbledore would not always be there to stop Lyra. He said he had been lucky to catch Lyra before she could do any damage.

Too bad he couldn't say the same about Draco.

She loathed Dumbledore, detested him with her very being. He was so very biased. Potter had almost killed her brother, but all he got was detention. Lyra had been kicked out of school when she hadn't even gotten to touch the little brat. Dumbledore had to protect his Chosen One, she thought sarcastically.

She wouldn't forget this. One day she would get that disgusting half-blood back. She had told her mother just as much and she had rolled her eyes at Lyra.

 _"You will do no such thing," her mother said with a glare._

 _"I certainly will," Lyra muttered mutinously._

 _Mother leaned back, her eyes shifting from one side to the next. "You forget yourself. You forget your place. The Dark Lord gets to decide Harry Potter's fate, not you."_

Marcus had convinced her to stay home and not chase this matter further. He brought up their child that was growing in her belly, saying reasonably that she could get hurt if Lyra did something crazy like attack the boy-who-lived.

It had pacified her enough to become level-headed about this subject. She would not do anything to risk her young.

She sent enough fretful letters to Draco that he became irate with her, telling her to leave him be and that he was perfectly fine. When mother vouched for him, sighting that only a few unsightly scars were what remained, she finally dropped it.

Now she had other worries.

Sometimes Marcus went on missions for the Dark Lord. It wasn't very often, only two that she knew of since coming home, but that was two too many. He had never come back hurt, but that didn't mean he never would. It only took one time, and the thought frightened her. She didn't want to be all alone raising this baby. Then there was her mother and brother, also deeply rooted in the Dark Lord's clutches. If Draco failed she wasn't sure what the Dark Lord would do. He had to complete his mission, it was the only choice.

Marcus wrapped his arms around her side, pulling her closer to his side of the bed. "What is floating through your mind? You're so far away," he whispered into her ear.

She pulled away from him, staring up into his eyes. "I just worry."

"About what?" His arms wrapped around her in a protective cocoon. Things weren't what they used to be with Marcus, but they were getting better. She still couldn't bring herself to do her wifely duty, and he let her be on that matter.

"You. Mother… Draco. Everything is such a mess."

"What do you mean?"

She grimaced, attempting to think of the best way to phrase what she was trying to say without sending any red flags for him to see. "I'm tired of being afraid. I'm afraid all the time."

"Of what?"

"Of my parents making a mistake, of my brother being killed by the Dark Lord. You being assassinated on a mission. There are so many things to be afraid of." She remained motionless, apprehensive of what his reaction would be. She felt his breath against her neck, keeping her nerves on end.

"It's dangerous, that much I agree with. But it will be worth it if we finally get the world we should have had all along. You will see," he promised.

Lyra remained silent, clutching the thick blankets in her hands tightly. Marcus wanted everything she didn't, but she had known that going into this. She had to accept this, accept that she had chosen the other side despite her ideals.

The next morning she sat at the breakfast table, stirring her tea. She had begun watching Marcus go off for the day. She would trudge down the stairs, Marcus getting more worried by the day about her safety on them. She was beginning to struggle getting up and down steps. Lyra always made sure to be careful though. She couldn't fall and hurt the baby. Marcus was half tempted to take one of the rooms downstairs until her pregnancy was over.

"Have you chosen a name yet?" he asked.

Marcus had allowed her the privilege of naming their first child, their daughter, in a trade that when they had a son he would be able to do the same. She wasn't so certain she wanted to go through with this again. Lyra had been fortunate to not get morning sickness, but she was always sore. Her feet swelled, and her back ached. She always felt drained by the end of the day, able to do nothing but sit down and read.

Now she read books on pregnancy, and how to be a better parent. She was learning quite a few tips from them, and she only hoped she would be a good mother.

"Josephina." She glanced at Marcus, taking in his reaction. "A strong name for a strong little girl. I was looking through your book of relatives and saw that Josephina Flint had been Prime Minister in her time."

Marcus grinned in approval. "So we're having a little Joey?"

Lyra couldn't help the laugh that came out of her throat from the unexpected nickname. "I suppose we are."

 _The Daily Prophet_ was delivered at that moment, placed on the table by a toffee colored owl who waited impatiently to bring back its money. Marcus threw a knut on the table carelessly and it took off. Lyra buttered her toast before reaching for _The Daily Prophet_.

"Anything interesting?" Marcus asked as she flipped through the pages.

Nothing more than usual. The Dark Lord's work being strung across muggles, influential muggleborns turning up missing. The usual.

She took a startled breath in, staring at the headline in disbelief. Ginny wouldn't do that to Lyra. She knew how much ire Lyra felt for Harry Potter.

Yet pictures did not lie, and that kiss was undeniable.

Her hands slowly crumpled the paper, rage growing steadily in her. Ginny Weasley. She was supposed to be Lyra's friend. She didn't know how Ginny could betray her like this, dating the person that had tried to kill her brother.

But they had both chosen their sides.

* * *

Dumbledore was dead.

Lyra was in disbelief, but Draco had been adamant on that when he had rushed to her house that night to say his goodbyes. He had to go into hiding after. The ministry would look for Draco first at Malfoy Manor. They searched the Flint house too, because of their obvious ties to them. Lyra had remained in the foyer, arms crossed and unimpressed. She could tell Marcus was infuriated with them trespassing and searching through their home. Thankfully, Lyra's father-in-law Danold was the one directly dealing with the officials. He had a much better temperament when speaking with them, and did not look as if he were attempting to murder them with his eyes.

When nothing turned up they left, but it was obvious they would keep an eye on the Flints. Marcus had raged that night, chucking vases and century old books against the walls. Lyra had remained down the hall, unwilling to test her theory that he wouldn't hurt her. He had joined her in bed late that night and went straight to sleep, disappearing in the morning before she even woke.

It was probably best that Marcus was distancing himself for the moment. She would not be the one to foolishly think she could calm him down because she was his wife and he held affection for her. No, she would wait until he was ready.

It was strange to stare at herself in the mirror. She was foreign even to her eyes, watching as her stomach became more bulbous. Mother doted on her even more with Draco gone, coming over almost every day and insisting on treating Lyra like an invalid. Sometimes it was frustrating, other times she was unceremoniously grateful. Normally Lyra was tired by noon and had to take a nap to get through the rest of the day. Mother was always there to help her when she woke up, getting everything Lyra may need.

Mother had been a bit miffed in the beginning about it being a girl, but became used to the idea. Now she could tell mother was excited by this fact, and could not wait to bathe little Josephina with splendor.

Lyra thought of Romilda and Mary, wondering how they were. There was no way to communicate with them anymore. Lyra had been clear about that when she left. She wasn't sure if she'd ever be able to be friends with them, most likely not. Even if the light won the war Marcus would still be her husband and the Malfoys her family. She must accept this, no matter how much she wished not to.

Ginny was a traitor to Lyra, dating the boy Lyra detested. She had thought Ginny had gotten over her crush of Potter years ago. She wondered how Romilda had reacted, considering how obsessed she was with the half-blood. Perhaps Romilda felt betrayed by Ginny too.

She loathed when Colin filtered into her mind. She was sure to have crushed him last time they spoke. She would have to bear her betrayal to Marcus for the rest of her life. It wasn't all of Colin's fault. He may have initiated it, but Lyra hadn't stopped him. She had even reciprocated it. She thought of how different everything would be if she had chosen him. Would she be any happier? She wasn't sure, and she'd never know the answer to that question.

She hoped she hadn't let Aunt Andromeda down with her choice. With any luck her aunt and her family would stay safe in this war. It was too bad she had never gotten to meet her cousin, Tonks. She would have liked seeing more of her relatives.

The baby's nursery was finished. It was a light yellow and had everything Lyra would ever need for the babe. There were toys and books and playsets and much more in there. Mother had come back with all of it about a month ago, stating it was time to decorate Josephina's room and Lyra was dawdling too much.

Sometimes Lyra would sit in there staring at the walls. Cute little puffskeins were on the boarder, twitching and moving about in their respective spaces. Mother appeared irritated with Marcus' nickname for the baby, Joey. Mother stubbornly referred to her only as Josephina.

A loud pop from the living room made Lyra stir. She stared at the door leading to it, forcing herself up with a grunt and rubbing at her protruding stomach. At eight months pregnant things were getting very difficult for her. Even the simplest of chores, such as getting dressed and putting shoes on, tired her out. Lyra could not even use magic to put on her shoes, as she was not seventeen. It placed her in a predicament, as she could no longer see over her belly to put them on.

When she opened the door Marcus was in there, pacing back and forth across the fireplace. "Marcus?"

He paused, turning towards her. At first, his face remained blank. But then a smile grew, malicious in nature. "I have excellent news."

She took a measured breath in, attempting to stay calm. He appeared so unpredictable these days. Ever since the aurors had searched their home Marcus had remained in a silent rage, stewing over it. His views on muggleborns and muggles had grown even sharper, and Lyra only remained silent as he went on about the vicious things he wished to do to them.

He was changing, and Lyra could only watch as he did. Perhaps he had always been this way, but had hidden it from her before. He was still doting, but he no longer had that carefree smile for her every day. Those were far and few.

"What is it?"

He laughed, throwing his head into the air madly before pacing towards her. It took everything in her to not run away, to stay where she remained as she fought to keep the fear at bay. He frightened her, he had since the ministry had left.

"The Dark Lord. He has won. The magical world is his."


	51. Chapter 51

Chapter 51

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Lyra shifted nervously through the quiet crowd, disgruntled by how all of them watched her from afar with shifty eyes. One particular witch glared at her, turning back to the people she was with, with derision.

She paused in front of Flourish and Blotts, taking in the wanted posters in front of her. In the middle sat Undesirable Number One: Harry Potter. It stated his biggest crime was killing Albus Dumbledore. Lyra nearly snorted, but was mindful of appearances. Potter was flanked by his two best friends, Undesirables Number Two and Three Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley.

There were whispers that soon enough anti-muggle propaganda would begin. The Dark Lord was mindful of the masses, carefully taking over one department at a time and slowly incorporating this dissent. The average wizard would not be able to point out the exact moment the Dark Lord came to power, but almost everyone knew it was the Dark Lord running the Ministry and not his puppet Minister Pius Thicknesse.

She shifted her cloak back over her shoulder, hugging her stomach protectively as she began walking down the cobble stone streets. She glanced to her right, taking in the brooding Marcus. She had told him she needed to go on an errand, but honestly she had to get out of the house. She was beginning to go stir-crazy. She needed a break from that place, it was all she ever saw these days.

The baby suddenly kicked up, placing pressure on her ribs and making her gasp out loud. Marcus wrapped his hand around her upper arm, obviously startled.

"Are you okay?"

She nodded grimly. "Yes. I think- I think I need to sit down for a moment." He led her to a nearby table, shifting nervously as the crowd parted as if they were diseased. Marcus always became anxious when she wished to leave the Flint residence. Although the Dark Lord had taken over there were still supporters of the light. Some of them were just as zealous as Death Eaters, and he did not wish for her or the baby to get hurt.

Draco had come out of hiding, although he stayed at Malfoy Manor to make that less obvious. Honestly, if she hadn't been told the Dark Lord had taken over she would have never guessed because the next day nothing drastic had happened. It had gone on as normal.

She turned and looked back down at her stomach, caressing it lovingly. She had finally chosen the baby's middle name: Hesper. Choosing the middle name Hesper was Lyra's secret rebellion, and no one would ever guess that. Hesper was a family name on the Black side. She had been a witch that, despite being a woman in the early 1800's, managed to avoid being forced to have children. Hesper must have been a very persuasive witch to have convinced her husband of that. Lyra could only hope the same would be said of her Josephina.

It was her greatest wish for Josephina to turn into a strong, eloquent witch. To be able to make the decisions Lyra never could. Sometimes she regretted choosing this side. Mary would be targeted soon enough and Lyra's heart ached because of it. She had heard many muggleborns did not return to Hogwarts this year, instead taking their families and going into hiding. She wasn't sure if Mary had done this, Lyra hoped she had. Then there was a chance for her friend's survival.

Marcus stood suddenly, startling her. She took a deep breath in as a flash of light headed their way, Marcus getting a protective shield up just in time.

For a moment she could not understand what was happening, watching as the crowd quickly dispersed and Lyra remained frozen where she was. It appeared that Marcus had called for backup, placing his hand on his forearm because mere seconds later two Death Eaters appeared drawing gasps from the surrounding crowd and screams of terror.

The two dissentors were restrained easily enough. As soon as a body binding spell was placed on the last one Marcus strode purposefully towards them, pulling his left arm back and striking the man so brutally that he flung backwards, a spatter of blood coating the wall from the whiplash.

"Marcus!" Lyra panted, startled. He glanced at her angrily before turning to the other one, paying her no mind. The two Death Eaters remained silent, poised for anything Marcus might need.

She had seen Marcus Flint be violent before, but never like this. She was almost certain Marcus had dislocated the man's jaw, and blood still fell freely from his lips. She struggled to stand up, her stomach weighing on her like never before.

"Are you with the Order of the Phoenix?" Marcus demanded. By now the streets were bare of life.

The witch spat at his feet with a snarl. "Death Eater scum. Think you will ever get me to talk."

Lyra had always been afraid to step in the way of Marcus' temper. When she had finally saddled up to him he barely looked like the man she had married, his face twisted in cruelty. "Marcus?"

He ignored her.

"You thought to kill my wife?"

Lyra glanced between the two of them helplessly. "Marcus, let us leave," Lyra begged. "Let's go home."

"She will give birth to more Death Eater filth. I was only doing the world a favor."

Lyra took a step back, startled by the woman's vehemence. She could tell these were not false words of bravado, the woman truly hated Lyra with vigor.

Marcus twisted his head to the side thoughtfully. "You will pay for those words."

The woman laughed madly. "Oh, we all will pay for what we've done. But you the most! We know what it is you're up to. There are always repercussions for all your actions, never forget that boy. Think about it the next time you torture a helpless child for information."

His eyes shifted in recognition. "He was yours." It wasn't a question, merely the stating of facts. "It matters not. You can blabber all you want old woman, but the fact is," he said, getting on one knee and leaning closer, "that if all enemies are neutralized there is no threat."

The green curse spilled out of his wand and in its wake lay a corpse, empty and lifeless.

"Take the other in for question. He may have answers for our Lord." The two Death Eaters did as Marcus bid, picking up the delirious man and appariting out of sight. The dead woman remained.

"Marcus," she gasped out. "What are-" He grabbed her arm, popping back onto the front yard of their home. She fell to her knees, shaking and hyperventilating as she attempted to gather her bearings. "What was that!?" she burst out. "You killed her without a thought! You pulverized that man!"

"They tried to kill you! What did you expect me to do?"

Not that. Never that. She couldn't bring herself to look at him. He was a murderer and he didn't even care.

Marcus paced in front of her growling. "What do you think I've been doing this whole time Lyra? Did you think this was all fun and games?" He stopped his pacing, kneeling down in front of her. "This is war. This is what war looks like. This is what it takes to allow us to sleep safe at night. You don't have to accept it, but you do have to live with it."

He let out an ironic laugh, shaking his head. "I knew all of the coldness you showed was a front. I could tell, because sometimes when you melted you showed me who you truly were. I'd never seen the full force of it until our honeymoon. I never had the privilege until then."

His hands wrapped around hers tightly in an attempt to comfort her, but he would never realize what he had broken in her today. Knowledge came with a price, and it was very heavy for her to bear. She didn't want to know what it was Marcus had been up to. She hadn't wanted to see a man get his teeth bashed out, nor a woman lose her life.

She didn't want to know the price of her safety.

But he had shown her, and now, whenever he left on a mission, she would know he was fulfilling that price. The cost of being a Death Eater's wife. Of being a Flint and a Malfoy.

A mad cackle startled them both. Lyra took the time to wrap her arms around her stomach and screw her eyes shut, rocking softly.

"How sweet," a dark voice taunted. "And here I was expecting to be welcomed with open arms!"

Marcus twisted around, clearly startled. "I-" he bowed his head in greeting. "Mrs. Lestrange. It's a pleasure to finally meet you face to face."

Lyra's eyes widened. She cranked her neck up to look at the tattered witch before her. Wild, spiraling curls framed her face, and hooded lids. Her black dress had tuffs of dust scattered across it, along with minute tears along the sleeves. Bellatrix stared down at her with condescension, a smirk on her lips.

That was when her water broke.

* * *

A/N: Another early chapter for all the wonderful reviews! ^_^

Guest Reviews:

Allie- I'm glad it payed off! I think you're the first person to say you like Marcus haha


	52. Chapter 52

This chapter is dedicated to Jedi Steelwolf, my 200th reviewer. ;)

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Chapter 52

* * *

Lyra curled her arms around the bundle in her arms, caressing the silky smooth skin of her baby's cheek. It had taken her much longer than expected to birth her daughter, and in the end the healers had to put Lyra asleep to even get Josephina out.

For once in her life Lyra's mother had truly been there for her, unworried about protocol and what strangers may think of her. Mother had been open, encouraging. Lyra wasn't certain she would have made it as long as she did without her mother.

Mother became more like her usual self after the birth, but it was like a part of her had thawed. There still was that bit of distance between them, but this time Lyra could see that her mother cared. Not just knew it, but actually saw it.

She found out shortly after that her father had already been freed from Azkaban by the Dark Lord. Their Lord didn't want that to be public knowledge, so father was house bound. Lyra wasn't sure what she felt about her father anymore. All she knew is she had to be there for her child, for little Josephina. She would not go to that manor and endanger her daughter with the Dark Lord and her Aunt Bellatrix running amuck.

Seeing her Aunt Bella for the first time had frightened her more than she cared to admit. Her aunt was truly deranged, one look at her and anyone would know that. The best course of action would be to avoid her and hope she did not decide to go for another visit at the Flint residence.

Lyra ran her fingers over the peach fuzz that was considered to be her daughter's hair. She was almost bald. Hopefully that would be remedied quickly. Her eyes were brown in color, but her mother warned her that could change. Mother told her that Lyra's eyes had been dark blue when she was born, and had turned to look more like her mother's as she grew. Draco's had been blue also, but changed to silvery grey.

Marcus had brown eyes so she was almost certain Josephina's eye color would not change. Perhaps the shade would. As it was Lyra could not tell the exact hue of her daughter's eyes. She did not open her eyes much, only to fuss when she did not get immediate gratification. Even then she would blink so rapidly that Lyra could still not get a good understanding of their color.

Lyra had been worried to hand Josephina to Marcus for the first time. She had seen what those hands could do. What they were capable of. But in the end she had nothing to worry about. He held her like fine china, his eyes holding a strange sheen to them. He didn't say a word, only sat quietly staring at her. He handed her back when Josephina began to get cranky, wishing to be fed.

The pureblood circle would certainly talk. Josephina was born three weeks early. That would make it appear as if Lyra had gotten knocked up before the wedding. Strangely, Lyra found she no longer cared for such idle gossip. Her priorities were now Josephina and her family. Everything else paled in comparison.

Lyra would have liked to pretend that day had never happened. The day Josephina had been born. But something good had come of it, the best thing that had ever happened to Lyra, so Lyra couldn't bring herself to completely forget. Ignoring what had happened before she was born was beginning to get easier. Josephina was a good distraction. She woke up every few hours to be changed and fed. Lyra hadn't had a good night's sleep in almost a month now.

As Lyra's happiness grew, the wizarding world's dimmed. There were obvious signs of the Dark Lord's complete taking over of the ministry everywhere. The Dementors no longer guarded Azkaban. Many of the old officials had been replaced or were behaving strangely, and now the ministry had blatant anti-muggleborn propaganda floating about. Many of the muggleborns were being tried in court for stolen magic, their wands broken and thrown out into the muggle world. If they had no proof of wizarding ties all of them lost their wands.

Last she heard of Hogwarts, the Carrow siblings were taking over. Whipping and beating was becoming the norm, and there were no more muggleborns learning in Hogwarts. Draco had decided to go back for his seventh year. Mother had pulled some strings in the ministry to allow him to re-take the exams he had missed. Draco often sent Lyra letters, much of what was going on at Hogwarts slipping through on the pages.

An irritating scratching noise echoed through the room. Lyra winced, turning towards the window where the source was coming from. A foreign owl was pecking at the window. It didn't appear to be a ministry appointed owl from what she could see. Lyra glanced down at the peaceful resting face of her daughter before placing her in the crib, hurrying to stop that horrid noise before it could wake her.

The owl didn't wait for any type of payment, dropping the unadorned letter on the nightstand and racing back out of the window, disappearing in the trees. She stared at the letter in hesitation. It wasn't a howler, and was not from any pureblood. They would have put their crest on it. It was unremarkable in every way. She uncurled the ends, pulling it open to read the message. It only had one sentence etched across it.

 _10/29. 1PM. Mary's trial._

* * *

Lyra sat poised and collected on the edge of her chair, as unapproachable as ever. People passed by her, appearing unnerved by her appearance. She simply ignored them, or gave them her best aristocratic stare.

She had left the baby in the capable hands of her mother, not bothering to explain where she was going. Not that she would have if mother had asked….

Lyra was risking everything by doing this. She had managed to fall off the Dark Lord's radar. She was no longer bound to her parent's decisions, and her husband was not forcing her to do anything she did not wish to do.

But she had to do this.

An official came out of the court room, followed by a blubbering muggleborn.

"I swear I'm not muggleborn. My great-great aunt was a Blishwick, I swear! Oh, please! Have mercy! Don't break my wand!"

"Stawp yer blubberin,'" one of the officials grumbled, leading him roughly down the hall as he wailed.

The final official cleared his throat. "The court case of Mary Caldweather is in accord. May all pertinent people enter into the court room."

After a moment Lyra stood, her back stiff and movements graceful. She sat down in the front in all her pureblood splendor, looking upon the room as if they were all beneath her.

Mary was led in shortly after, appearing miserable. Her eyes were watery and her hair looked as if it could use a good brushing. She was practically thrown down on the chair in the middle of the open floor, the magical chains tightening and not allowing much movement on her part.

To Lyra's disgust Umbridge was in the audience of judges, as pink as ever. She had even placed a thin line of red lipstick that clashed garishly with her roseate coat.

One of the officials, a stern looking woman with a knot of brown hair, pounded the gavel as she began to read from a scroll. "The disciplinary hearing on the twenty-ninth of October for offences by Mary Elaine Caldweather residing at 23 Bracard Drive, Manchester. Interrogator will be Rickard Hawclier, defendant Elena Montesque." She pounded her gavel once more for good measure before sitting down self-righteously.

A sleazy looking man with cornflower blonde hair gelled back strolled up to Mary. The muggleborn did not move, continuing to stare at her knees. "Tell me Ms. Caldweather, how did you get your magic?"

Lyra almost thought Mary would not answer, but in a tiny voice she replied, "I've always had it."

"Is that so?" he asked, condescension in his voice. "Do you have any magical relatives?"

Mary breathed heavily, still staring at her knees. "No."

"And why, if you are not guilty, did you attempt to flee the country?"

Whispers picked up in the stands, words of condemnation on everyone's breath.

Mary sniffled. "I don't know."

Rickard Hawclier leaned forward, hands on his knees, to get a better look at her face. "You don't know? Hm, that doesn't sound very innocent to me."

Mary turned her face away, not bothering to answer. She had known how this would go, and there was no point in fighting the inevitable. All those years learning, every book she had read. All the times she had spent staying up late to finish an assignment. They were all to go to waste. She only wanted to survive this, perhaps she could catch up in the muggle world enough to make something of herself there. It was highly unlikely. She had given everything she had to be a witch and it was being brutally ripped away from her.

Rickard Hawclier sat down on the bench, overly pleased with himself. Lyra could tell he had no worries about losing this trial. Muggleborns rarely won them, if ever.

A well put together witch around her thirties stood, walking to the center of the room. The judge stood up. "May I call forth Elena Montesque, defendant."

The woman shifted through her papers, leisurely walking across the court room. "I would like to call to witness Lyra Flint nee Malfoy."

Gasps resounded throughout the hallowed room, which Lyra ignored. She stood up slowly, taking measured steps over to the witness table.

When Lyra turned to sit Mary was staring at her in blatant disbelief. Lyra only allowed herself a moment to peruse her friend before coldly turning away.

"Mrs. Flint. How are you today?"

Lyra pursed her lips in displeasure. "I was pulled away from my child. I'm afraid not too well."

Mary hunched into herself upon hearing the frostiness of Lyra's voice, staring once more at her knees.

"That is regrettable, I must say. I'm afraid I must ask you a few sensitive questions and I hope you will be able to answer."

Lyra turned her nose up, rolling her eyes. "Well, proceed. My time is very valuable."

"Then I will do my best to hurry. Mrs. Flint, what is your relation to Ms. Mary Caldweather?"

Lyra stared at Elena Montesque passively. "To the public? Nothing more than my roommate at Hogwarts." She paused purposefully. "It's embarrassing to admit, really. No one likes to. You're a pureblood yourself Montesque, so you would understand."

At that, Mary's head rose slightly.

Elena nodded empathetically, encouraging Lyra to continue. "Well, it was very surprising to learn this at all. Brutus Malfoy is my great- great so on and so forth grandfather. In his day he ran the anti-muggle periodical _Warlock at War_. It was a very successful newspaper in its time."

"Is there any point to this?" one of the jury pressed with irritation.

Lyra turned towards the interrupter, the look on her face forcing him to take a surprised breath in and slide slightly down into his seat.

"If you're suggesting that I'm blathering I must _insist_ that I am not. You would not find someone with esteem such as mine to do such a thing." Lyra rubbed at invisible dust on her skirts. "As I was saying before I was so _rudely_ interrupted," Lyra said bitingly, watching him slide further in embarrassment. "Brutus Malfoy ran _Warlock at War_. He and his wife bore two children, only one making it into adulthood. But the strange thing is, no one ever knew what happened to the other son. He was just a toddler when he went missing, either parent refusing to speak of it. It's a very touchy subject, losing a child. No one wanted to press such a matter, and many said it was destined to happen. Nine times out of ten Malfoys bear only one child, a male. To bear two was unheard of. I am a strange commodity myself.

I looked into this matter further, and after much searching and prying I found the reason for his disappearance. Brutus' son had not died, merely disappeared. With some help from Brutus, of course. It's always so embarrassing when a squib pops up in the family."

Shocked whispers spread throughout the courtroom. Lyra waited until all the muttering had abated. "You see, Brutus wanted nothing to do with this non-magical being. How could he preach anti-muggle sentiments when he himself had borne a squib son? No one would answer to him if they found out."

"So," Lyra began, an amused smile tugging at her lips. "He left this child on the doorsteps of some muggles and bid himself good riddance. Little did he know that long line of squibs would one day turn into a promising witch."

The judge stared at her in incomprehension, leaning forward. "I'm sorry, I'm not sure if I'm understanding this correctly. Are you saying Mary Caldweather is this exact witch?"

Lyra gave her a measured grin, shrugging her shoulders.

"That is exactly what I was saying. You didn't think such a high ranking witch with eight O.W.L's would be completely muggle, would you?" Lyra could still see question on her face, as if not believing Lyra would admit to such a thing. "Ah, it was long ago, and now that line has borne fruition. Malfoys are so far and few. It is nice to know there is one more out there, even if it would be unacceptable to socialize with one another. She does, after all, have _a lot_ of mudblood in her."

"It was very… brave of you to admit this," the judge mumbled. "I suppose this finishes it, doesn't it? For the court case against Mary Elaine Caldweather against stolen magic, Mary Caldweather is found innocent and cleared of all charges. She may be released and her wand returned to her." The gavel pounded on the wooden podium with finality.

Mary didn't look as if she could quite believe what had happened. Lyra didn't spare her another glance, walking straight out of the court room without turning back.

The soft tap of shoes following her made Lyra come to a pause in the empty hallway.

"I thought you hated me. You seemed to, every time you were seen outside of your home you had that trademark pureblood look. The 'you're beneath me and you're lucky to even lay eyes upon me' one."

Lyra remained silent as she fixed the collar digging uncomfortably into her neck. Eyes were always on her, especially after a stunt like this. She was chancing everything by doing this. Especially with the Dark Lord knowing her true thoughts on this subject.

"Is it true? What you said out there?"

Lyra turned towards her with a perfectly arched brow. "Of course."

She didn't dignify Mary with another glace.

* * *

A/N: What I think the controversy was for the last chapter was a lot of your forgot was what Marcus Flint could actually be. Our vision of him was tainted because of how Lyra sees him. Lyra doesn't see him torturing and killing people. Lyra isn't around when he becomes a monster. She sees him at his best. It is because he cares for Lyra that he is that way. He has since they were young. He doesn't want to ruin Lyra. He wants her happy. He wants Lyra to love and care for him, so it is not hard for him to be kind to him. The whole time he has been this way, we just never got to witness it since this story is only seen through one view.

Guest Comments:

Guest: That was the first time people ever commented positively for Marcus. I think it was because of the last guest note I left on the chapter before this. You're right, all of the things Lyra is going through is really crappy. Although she doesn't see it through the lense that we do. She knows it's bad, but she grew up around people and situations like that so it isn't so extraordinary for her. It doesn't drag her down like it would us. Like she mentioned many chapters ago, she was just happy she wasn't with someone that would be extraordinarily cruel to her or waaay out of her age bracket. I don't want to say too much about the other stuff because I would give away parts of the story, but she would have been happier choosing the other side. She just could never picture herself doing that because of how she feels about her family. If they didn't care for each other like they did she would have already been on the light side, just like Sirius and Andromeda Black were. But she grew up differently than those two so her reactions are different. She doesn't have a family who are horrible to her like they did, which makes everything so much harder for her in the end.


	53. Chapter 53

Chapter 53

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Lyra watched as little Joey stared blankly at the ceiling. She tended to be quiet unless needing something, even when someone played with her.

"Is it normal for Josephina to be so… impassive?"

All of her parenting books said otherwise. Josephina's behavior would suggest she was sick, but this was how Josephina always acted. It couldn't be that. Lyra leaned over her child, rubbing at the little girl's belly in an attempt to tickle her. For a moment she did not react, but then she began to kick, swirling her little arms in tiny, frustrated circles.

"She does seem to be a bit behind. Both you and Draco were smiling by two months old. Josephina is three and there's still no sign of it… but I'm sure everything is fine. Josephina must be a late bloomer. She may just be different from you and Draco. No two babies are the same, after all. The healer never mentioned anything, did he?"

Lyra shook her head. "He said she was healthy." Joey's check-up was soon. Hopefully the healer would be able to abate some of her worries.

"You're coming to dinner tonight, aren't you?"

"Of course, mother."

Lyra was leaving the baby with Warble, much to her own chagrin. Lyra planned for Josephina to be napping during the time she was at dinner with her parents and brother. All Warble would have to do was remain in the room, making sure nothing harmful happened to Joey. The house elf was under strict orders to not touch the young Flint unless she began to wail. Lyra didn't trust that house elf, not after she had seen it fly into a fanatic rage when Lyra had asked questions of her blood traitor aunt. She would not allow any accidents to happen to her child.

It would be the first time since the Dark Lord took over that she would be going back to Malfoy Manor. She had been avoiding the trip, especially since her father was there. She no longer felt the sting of his betrayal. She had Josephina, after all. At first Lyra had not been too optimistic about her pregnancy, but by the end she was pleased. Yes, it would have been better to have the child later in life, but there was nothing to do for it now.

Not to mention the fact that the Dark Lord and Aunt Bellatrix frequented the premises. She never wanted to be in the presence of the Dark Lord again, or her aunt for that matter. Bellatrix Lestrange was too unpredictable, too crazily insane, for Lyra to handle.

Lyra wrapped her arm around Marcus', waiting for him to apparate onto Malfoy grounds. They had both dressed nicely for this dinner. Draco was home for Christmas break. It would be wonderful to see him. He had never allowed her to see any of his scars from that wretched boy-who-lived. They were all on his torso from what mother said, and as such easy to hide.

Mother opened the front door graciously, gesturing for them to follow her to the dining room. Something was off though. She appeared to be nervous, her eyes darting around with barely muted panic.

"Is everything alright mother?"

Her mother's hand paused on the door knob, clenching it within whitened fist.

"Is it still only you, father, and Draco?"

Mother turned to her, surprise etched into her features. She mulled over something for a moment, but decided against whatever she had planned to say and instead opened the door wide for Lyra and Marcus.

"Sometimes things change, dear."

Whatever was in that dining room made Marcus' face tighten. She could feel the muscles of his arm tense against her before pulling her inside, revealing what had once been hidden.

The first strange thing she noticed was that father was not at the seat of power. He was on the left, where her mother normally presided. His face was pale and gaunt, his eyes having deep bags under them.

He looked horrible.

Draco did not appear to be much better. His skin tone had a pallid, grey undertone, his hair ruffled. He did look better than father though.

A mop of brown curls startled Lyra. The woman sat at the other end of the table next to a strange man Lyra had never seen before. He had lanky brown hair that shadowed his face, going all the way down to his neck. The scruff of a beard could be seen from the shadows of his face.

"Wonderful! Itty bitty Lyra has made it! I must admit during our last meeting I did not form a very high opinion of you," she simpered. "But I'm sure you will prove me wrong." Bellatrix Lestrange's eyes challenged Lyra's, and Lyra immediately backed down. There was no way she would confront her aunt against anything. Madness had a way of winning, especially one so gifted a witch as her aunt was said to be.

"Oh, I'm sorry dearie. This is my husband, Rudolphus Lestrange. It is a family dinner, after all."

"Am I to believe you count me as family?" a hollow voice from the other side of the table asked. The voice that sat at the other end next to Draco and father.

The playfulness fled from Bellatrix Lestrange's face. "Of course not, my lord. One would not presume such a thing. I am only your humble servant, to do with as you please."

This was Lyra's worst nightmare come to life. The people that frightened her most, all at one table in the farce of a family dinner. She forced herself to relax, showing none of her inner turmoil.

"My lord." Marcus bowed deeply. "How gracious you are to honor us with your presence."

After a moment Lyra followed suit, dipping into a low curtsy. Her eyes remained firmly planted on the ground, unwilling to go through what had happened to her last time in the Dark Lord's company.

Bellatrix cackled from her seat, clapping her hands together loudly. "So the little one does have manners. Although I suppose you're not so little anymore, are you? You're married, with a babe no less."

The Dark Lord turned to Lyra and Marcus, gesturing to the table as if it were his own. Like it was his house he was presiding over, and at this point it just might be. "Please, sit. Dinner will be served soon."

Lyra could not bring herself to move until Marcus gave her a slight yank. She glanced at him to see he was glaring at her and she hurried to follow suit.

"I must admit the fruition of your marriage has pleased me greatly," the Dark Lord admitted. "We need every pureblood possible in this day in age. We must build up what we have lost throughout the years."

The house elves began to pop in and out of the dining room, bringing out steaming food with efficiency.

"I can only hope there be more children from this union." There was a bit of warning, of danger that had laced throughout his tone. It wasn't a suggestion, but a command.

"Of course, my lord. We will do all that is needed to help create this world you are building," her husband promised.

The Dark Lord nodded. "You're a good wizard. You get what I need done without trouble. I trust in you when you tell me this."

Lyra managed to keep her face neutral, but she felt sickened. For the Dark Lord to compliment her husband… no, she didn't want to know what he did on his missions. Did not want to imagine it. She would continue on her endeavor of protecting her daughter and feigning that they were a normal family. That Marcus didn't go off to do the Dark Lord's bidding and come back with bloodied palms from his work. Just because Lyra could not see the coppery red drip every time he came back did not mean it was not there.

"Lyra! You have not eaten anything! Are you not hungry? We made this big feast and for you not to eat anything…" A teasing glimmer sat in her aunt's eyes, one filled with maliciousness and decadence.

Lyra scooped a paltry amount of vegetables on her spoon, forcing herself to swallow. She would not bring her eyes towards the Dark Lord. Her aunt was one thing, but he was something else entirely.

"You've done well with this one Lucius," he said pointing to her. "You've engrained such loyalty in her that even when she is against everything we believe in she would not go against you." His words had startled Lyra enough to glance his way. He was giving her a mocking smile, raising his glass to her. "I'll have to ask you how you did it Lucius. Such training could only benefit in the preparation of future death eaters."

Her father was taken aback, but nodded quickly. "Of course, my lord. Whatever I can do to better serve you."

Aunt Bellatrix's eyes shifted back and forth in confusion.

"There was that recent mishap at the ministry. It does appear your training isn't without flaw," the Dark Lord mentioned in an off-handed way, his ruby red eyes taking them in carefully.

All of her family paused. They had avoided speaking of what Lyra had done at the ministry. Marcus had been angry when he found out, but when Lyra would not argue about it he dropped the subject. He could not understand why she would lower her family's worth by admitting to having a squib a few generations ago.

"I think she needs to be taught a lesson, my lord," Bellatrix simpered, staring at the Dark Lord with utter devotion. "Please, allow me to do it. I'll put my stubborn niece in her rightful place. Nothing would bring me more joy."

The Dark Lord delicately patted his lip-less mouth with a napkin. "I'm sure you would enjoy that Bellatrix, I do not doubt that. But that is not my plan for her." Lyra clenched her teeth, attempting to hide the tremble in her lips.

"No, what I want from Lyra Flint is pureblood children. I suppose I can allow one mudblood in this world so long as it does not populate. Perhaps we could make that girl your pet. You would enjoy that Lyra, wouldn't you?"

Lyra swallowed thickly. "Whatever my Lord desires."

She could see him lean back in his chair from her peripherals, his arms crossed in his lap. "Yes, whatever I desire."

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Guest Comments:

Guest- Mary was asking if it was true that she was related to Lyra, and Lyra said yes. I'm glad you're enjoying the story so far. :)


	54. Chapter 54

Chapter 54

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Mother wrapped Josephina in a tiny cloak, lavender in color. Mother had decided to come over and help Lyra get ready for Josephina's official first outing: the doctor's.

"Is Aunt Bella in love with the Dark Lord?" Lyra couldn't help but ask. The question had plagued her since their dinner.

Her mother fretfully adjusted Josephina's robes. "We do not speak of such things," she said finally.

"But she's married."

 _"Lyra_ ," mother said sternly.

Lyra finished gathering her hair in a bun, wispy tendrils framing her face. The notion of Bellatrix Lestrange being in love with the Dark Lord was obscene. But there had been no mistaking that look of adoration on her face. Lyra had seen it before, on Colin's…

No. She would not allow her thoughts to drift towards him. She had made her choice, now she must live with her decision.

"You will be fine on your own?"

"No one will attack me in the ministry if you're asking that." Not with how many Death Eaters there were inside the building, laced throughout every department. Someone would come to her aid by the time the second spell against her was uttered.

"Very well. Good luck."

Lyra nodded, throwing a handful of Floo powder into the fireplace and wrapping her arms tightly around the sleeping Josephina.

She moved up the levels quickly, ignoring the paper birds fluttering about, and getting off at St. Mungo's. She was directed to the correct department by the receptionist, who was all too willing to help Lyra with _anything_ she might need. Lyra could tell it was fright that had influenced the woman. The whites of her eyes had shown as they darted across Lyra's face, not able to focus on one particular feature.

Lyra didn't have much of a wait, and was seen almost at once despite the fact that there had been many ahead of her.

"How has she been?" he asked, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He would have appeared to be calm if not for the drop of sweat running down the side of his forehead. He wiped it away immediately, rubbing his hands on his pants.

"Well, I've been a bit worried. She's a little behind compared to her peers. I want to make sure she is okay and this is completely normal." Josephina was four months old now and she still did not react much to the things around her. Most often she was seen either sleeping or staring wherever her head was left to rest at. Usually the ceiling or wall.

"No doubt you've read that in a parenting magazine of some sort. Although they are the averages, not all children are the same. I wouldn't worry quite yet. We will do some tests while we're here just to make sure."

Lyra nodded, taking the potion the doctor handed her.

"She's going to need to take that. It protects against all kinds of diseases, even some forms of Dragon Pox."

Lyra knew it would most likely be a battle to get her daughter to drink it. All Josephina would allow herself to swallow was breast milk, refusing any of the formulas Lyra bought. "Does she have to drink it all at once or can it be little by little?"

"As long as she drinks it," the healer declared, gesturing for Lyra to place her baby on the fitted table. Lyra made sure the blanket covered any part that may touch Josephina's skin before placing her down and taking a step back.

The healer ran a series of diagnostic tests, each one giving a different reaction. Greens, pinks, and blues filled the air. The man did not appear perturbed until he ran into a purple colored one. His nose twitched and he repeated the spell, getting the same result. "I-I think we must do a little more research. I'll send the matron in to finish the rest of the testing."

Lyra frowned, biting on the side of her cheek. That reaction could not have been good. Perhaps the healer was trying to be careful before diagnosing Josephina with anything.

The matron, a woman in her late forties with pudgy skin, came in to finish up the test. She took a vial of blood too, Josephina remaining calm throughout it all. It most likely had to do with the numbing spell that had been placed on her, but Lyra was still impressed. Josephina had been poked and prodded today more than she had in her entire life.

About twenty minutes later the healer came back, shifting through the results.

"Is something wrong?"

The healer rubbed at his balding head. "I'm afraid so," he said solemn.

Lyra's heart sped up at the declaration. "Is she sick? Is there something I can do? I can assure you no expense shall be spared when it comes to my daughter's health."

The healer's eyes shifted nervously. "That is very good to know. There is something you can do, but I'm afraid it would not be very fun for your daughter."

Lyra's foot began to tap anxiously, waiting for him to continue. "Well come on. Out with it."

The healer pulled his glasses off, letting out a great sigh. "Your daughter's not sick the way you're imagining, I'm sure. Many children who have this syndrome go on to live long lives. Your daughter does not appear to be at the worst level, but mid-tier. Many magical parents cannot afford the potions to help them right their children, but I'm assuming you can. She could become almost normal with them. It would be a two series potion for her."

"You still have yet to tell me what my daughter has," Lyra gritted out.

"It's not what she has but what she is." The healer eyed her, the whites of his eyes shaking. "Your daughter is mentally handicapped."

For a moment Lyra could not understand what the man had told her. "I'm sorry, but could you repeat that."

He leaned towards her. "She is mentally handicapped."

"That's impossible," she denied, becoming cross. "A Malfoy has never been born in such a way. I demand you to quit being so shoddy at your job and bloody find out what's actually wrong with my daughter." She held her head high, glaring at him.

"I know this can be a hard thing to accept," he continued. "It's not always genetic. Have you, perhaps, asked your husband if this runs on his side of the family?"

Lyra could taste blood in her mouth from biting down on her cheek, coppery and metallic. She went to argue further, but hesitated.

She had stared at all the Xs on her family tree herself. There were a paltry amount of them, considering Malfoys were nefarious for having one child. Usually there was not much of an explanation on how those people died. When Lyra had perused the Flint tree there had been many gaps, numerous early deaths charted in the book. Only a few of them stated the cause of death. She could not be certain how Marcus would react to this news. He loved Josephina, Lyra had never doubted that, but would he still after learning this? Would he make Joey disappear, like many of their ancestors had their own children when a weakness popped up in the family tree?

Lyra could never tell anyone of this. This news was too dangerous for anyone else to know.

"Have you spoke of these findings to anyone?" she asked coldly. He flinched at her sudden change of tone.

"O-Only the matron. She helped make sense of the results."

"You will burn those papers."

The healer gaped at her. " _What?_ That's against protocol. We can't just-"

"You will burn them, or you will pay for it with your life."

She stared at him steadily, watching as his fear heightened and his shaking increased tenfold. "You are to tell no one of these results. They never happened. If this gets out I will know whose mouth has uttered the words. My husband is a vicious man, and he's not afraid to get his hands dirty. Tell me, do you have a daughter?"

He swallowed thickly. "Yes, a daughter and a son."

Lyra stood up, shouldering her bag and hugging Josephina tightly in her arms. "Then you will understand when I say if anyone learns of this you will not be the only person to pay the price. A parent will go to extraneous lengths to protect their child. I'd hurry and relay the news to that nurse too, before she begins to blabber like women tend to do."

"I-I-I, yes. Of course!" he raced out the door, turning down a hall and into another room.

Lyra shrugged, taking the time to cover Josephina's head and walking to the elevator. As soon as it closed her farce ceased to be and her hands began to tremble. "It's going to be okay Josephine. No one is going to hurt you," Lyra promised, more to herself than to her daughter.

Not even the Dark Lord would step in her way when it came to her daughter.

By the time Marcus had gotten home Josephina had been put to bed. Her little girl sometimes still woke up during the night, but now her time at night was filled with more sleep than staying up. A crash from down stairs startled her, followed by another. She hurried down the stairs, nervously peaking her head in the living room. Marcus snarled, an animalistic look on his face as he chucked his grandmother's one hundred and fifty-seven year old vase against the wall. They'd only had a discussion about it the other day.

"Marcus?"

She had convinced herself that her daughter was safe by saying no one had noticed Josephina's odd behavior except herself. Lyra would cease to comment on it, declaring everything Josephina did to be normal. She should have tried to get that potion before threatening the healer, but she hadn't been thinking very clearly. Lyra hoped this outburst of her husband's wasn't from him finding out about Josephina's handicap. Dread filled her at the thought.

He turned to her, the rage dimming as he took in her green, silken pajamas and exhausted features. Grief burst from his eyes, and he fell to the wooden floors on his knees. "Lyra," he managed to get out, close to tears.

Lyra hurried over to him, wrapping her arms around him and kissing his cheek. He let out a raucous sob, hugging her tightly against him.

"What happened, love?"

"Dad," he cried out. "There was a mission we were on… but the order knew about it somehow. They- they." His voice broke off and Lyra was unable to understand anything he was saying. Lyra held his head to her chest, rocking him back and forth.

"They captured your father?"

He clutched her tighter to him, his grip almost painful. "No Lyra. Not at all. The Order killed him."

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A/N: Another early chapter for my awesome reviewers! Thank you guys so much! I really do enjoy reading everyone's thoughts. :)


	55. Chapter 55

Warning: The first three paragraphs are a bit smutty if that's not your thing. Literally, the first sentence is smut. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

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Chapter 55

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Lyra gasped, her back arching off the silken sheets as she took in a ragged breath of cold air. His hands slid into her hair, steadying her as he brought his lips to hers. His mouth was soft, pliant, as she wrapped her arms around his neck. An uninhibited moan broke through her lips as his hips met hers in a particularly pleasurable movement.

Lyra finally had been able to make their coupling a pleasant experience for her. It was that night, when he came to her so desperate and needy that Lyra had given in. When Marcus' father died he had come to her searching for comfort. When it began to lead to something unexpected Lyra did not resist. She hadn't slept with him since that day at Hogsmeade, and she had already healed from the birth of their daughter. He had needed something tangible, something only Lyra could give, and she could only oblige.

Her hands trailed down his back, his lips working their way down her neck. He tensed, whispering something Lyra could not understand before collapsing next to her, pulling her close.

Marcus had become much more passionate in the past months. That anger and rage had disappeared once he bared himself to her, and in its place something new bloomed. Lyra couldn't say that she loved Marcus, not yet. But given time she thought she might.

Lyra shifted, curling herself in his embrace. Josephina was safe. No one knew what the healer had told her that day. Everyone that met her just assumed Joey was quiet, or Lyra had already begun teaching her the pureblood way as strange as that sounded. Josephina was not even a year old. A normal child would not be able to grasp those teachings. Lyra herself did not quite master that art until she had been around nine. At seven she was very good at masking emotion, but Draco had still managed to get under her skin and force her into an unnecessary tantrum.

Lyra allowed people to think as they wished. It was better this way.

Lyra had finally received a smile from Josephina at five months. Marcus could not understand why Lyra was crying about such a minor thing. Lyra had replied that their daughter brought her happiness, and he had laughed and agreed. Just this month, at six months, she began to make noises. Her Josephina was attempting to talk to people, gargling happily when her eyes were able to focus on her mother and father.

Lyra's whole life now centered on her daughter. When she woke up in the morning the first thing she did was head over to Josephina's room and get her ready. Only when Joey was clean and fresh would Lyra get herself ready. She learned the hard way how easy it was to make a mess of yourself when cleaning and changing a baby. By the time Lyra was done with herself little Joey was completely up, squirming as she stared at the circling mobile with colorful puffskein's above her.

Then they would go downstairs to the kitchen. Marcus was up by then, grabbing a bite of toast and giving Lyra a kiss before heading to work. By noon Josephina would be tired, and Lyra took advantage of that time by taking a short nap also.

Sometimes Lyra would floo to the betting ring and drop off lunch for Marcus, other times she was making sure Warble was not excessively cleaning one room as she was prone to do instead of tidying the whole house. Josephina's room was off limits for the house elf unless Lyra stated otherwise. If it needed cleaning Lyra did it herself. She still did not trust the house elf with her daughter, but Lyra didn't trust many people with Josephina. Neither mother nor Marcus appeared to notice how far Josephina was lagging behind, and Lyra wanted to keep it that way.

Marcus would come home to a meal, thanks to Warble. It turned out Lyra was dreadfully awful at cooking. Warble had to make all of their meals if there was to be anything edible on the table. Afterwards Marcus usually played with Joey, or held their daughter against his chest if he was too tired. Which worked just as well for little Joey.

Everything was about Josephina. Lyra forgot about the war broiling over all around them, of the death counts and muggles dying and muggleborns going into hiding. Everything became irrelevant. Lyra never knew a person could love something as much as she did her daughter. If there was a stronger word than love she would use it, because this felt so much stronger than anything else she'd ever felt. Not even her feelings for Colin encompassed her as much as Josephina's did.

It didn't hurt so much to think of Colin anymore. She still loved him, she probably always would. She could only yearn that Colin was safe, wherever he was. He was stubborn, he had been since the first day Lyra had met him. He would survive, Lyra could not imagine him doing anything else.

Lyra didn't get out very often. After that first attempt on her life she tried not to, or at the least wait until Marcus was willing to go with her. Their property was protected thanks to Marcus' Death Eater friends. There were so many wards that Lyra didn't know what to think of them all. But at least that meant Josephina would be safe. Lyra would not have to worry about them getting attacked during the day when she was home alone.

Mother came over less, and Draco had dropped out of school again. When Lyra asked him about it he said it just wasn't like what it used to be and he no longer got the enjoyment he once did from staying at Hogwarts. Draco tried to hide it, but he adored Josephine. Sometimes he would come over when he was not required at a Death Eater meeting to play with his niece. Lyra always watched him carefully, remembering what he had been like with her when they were growing up. He had always been rough and she had gotten more than enough scrapes and bruises because of him as a child.

But he was tender with Josephina. Sometimes he would just stare at her, allowing her to clutch his finger tightly in her palm and watch her quietly as she gargled at her twirling mobile.

This war had changed Draco. It had forced him to grow up. Lyra didn't dare ask if he was still with Pansy Parkinson, and Lyra was assuming her parents would have him marry soon since he had quit Hogwarts. So far no such word had spread to her, but she wasn't holding her breath.

Lyra leaned over towards Josephina who was giggling as she threw food over the edge of her highchair. Lyra rolled her eyes, attempting to force Joey to try some of it. Josephina was adamant on not eating solid foods. At six months she should be at least attempting to eat it, but she was more amused by making a mess of everything.

Marcus laughed from across the room. "Joey is just like her daddy," he said, rubbing their daughter's sorely lacking head of hair. She was growing a bit of a mohawk at this stage, but even that was generous. "She makes a mess everywhere she goes."

Lyra couldn't hold back the snort of laughter.

"Why Mrs. Flint, I'm very surprised at that noise you just made. Very unladylike," he commented with a teasing smile.

Lyra rolled her neck at him, giving her husband an unamused look. "Oh, hush."

He snickered to himself but remained silent. Lyra turned back to Josephina who was currently banging her little fist on the highchair, making the food bounce across it and fall to the floor. Every time a piece of food fell she would burst into hysterical giggles, pounding away until another piece joined its fellow brethren on the tiled battlefield.

"You think that's so funny, but who do you think is cleaning it up? Lyra muttered, leaning down to grab all the pieces of cereal. "Come on Joey. Just eat one! This is sugary for crying out loud! Kids love sugar." At least that is what she had heard.

She forced a piece between Josephina's lips and as soon as Lyra pulled her hand away Joey spit it out. "You're exasperating, you know that? You can't live off of breast milk forever."

Josephina made happy spit bubbles, clenching and unclenching her fists in excitement.

"At least she can hold her neck up now."

That much was true.

"The war may be ending soon," her husband said casually, his hand sliding against her back gently as he passed.

Lyra stilled, momentarily speechless at the sudden announcement.

"How do you know that?"

"The Dark Lord will be bringing the final battle to Hogwarts. He said so himself at the last meeting."

Lyra forced herself to continue as she had been, placing different finger foods for Josephine to try. "When will that be?"

"The Dark Lord is thinking it will be in the beginning of May."

"Potter will be there?"

Marcus snorted. "Of course he will be. The boy has a hero complex. Our lord is sure of this."

Lyra gnawed on the side of her cheek. Could she live in a world of the Dark Lord's creation? Where no weakness was accepted and only those with magical ties could flourish?

Lyra knew one thing. As much as Lyra would try to hide Josephina's disability one day it would be obvious. Lyra would not be able to protect her when that day came. The Dark Lord wanted pureblood children from her, yes, but not ones that were mentally handicapped. At best Josephina would be thrown on some muggle's doorstep, never to be seen again.

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A/N: I don't think that first scene is too bad compared to other stories on this website. But since that was the first time I did any such scene I figured a warning was needed. There is only one other scene like this in the story although it's not so small as this. I will put a warning in that chapter also.

Guest Comments:

Guest- I pictured the disability as something similar to autism. Where it wouldn't be obvious just by looking at her that there was something wrong but given enough time it would becomes obvious. I put a stigma on mental disabilities too, not unlike how they have them against werewolves and house elves. Werewolves have very few rights and most people seem to think them only slightly higher than animals based on wizard laws. The same for house elves. They do like servitude but they're treated like they're stupid when they are able to understands things just as people do.

Marcus eventually does find out and his reaction will be in here, and Danold's death affects Marcus badly. It's no longer just hatred of a person, but revenge too. I imagine nobody would want to meet him on a battlefield.


	56. Chapter 56

Chapter 56

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Lyra finished the memory charm on the old couple sleeping peacefully in their bed, placing Josephina in the crib Lyra had assembled in the corner moments before. She blinked back tears, rubbing her daughters' ruddy cheeks as she slept.

Less than a year ago Lyra had chosen family. She had picked what she thought she needed more than the other. She had married Marcus, and given up the only man who may ever understand her for exactly as she was. She had discarded her friends, and hidden in her world that fabricated protection.

Josephina would never be allowed to live in that world with Voldemort.

Whatever the results of this night, one thing would be certain: Josephina would be safe. That was all Lyra cared about. It was all she needed to continue to trudge from the house hidden in the woods. It didn't matter if Lyra died this very night. Joey would be able to live a normal life without the fear of being persecuted for something she had no control over.

Lyra's decision had been cemented by her husband. She had probed him, asking what he thought of children with disabilities. It was a risky question, but one she had to take.

He said they all should be culled. That they were useless, the weakest of the litter. All of them should be scorned from the Earth.

It wasn't very hard to make a decision after that.

Lyra stared up at Hogwarts, at its towering steeps and pointed gates. She took a deep breath in, walking calmly across the bridge. She didn't exactly have a plan, only to make sure the Dark Lord did not win and that her daughter would never be found unless Lyra wanted her to be. Hogwarts was the only stand she could make. It was too late for anything else. Lyra knew the battle was tonight. Marcus had left nearly two hours ago to prepare for it, saying his goodbyes to Lyra and his daughter in case the worst happened. Lyra hoped they didn't run into each other. She wasn't sure how Marcus would react, and didn't want to know.

Students were racing indoors when she got there, the younger years ushered in by the older ones. Lyra had never been in a true duel, not since first year when she signed up for the dueling club ran by Professor Snape and Lockhart. Even then Lyra didn't even count that. Her partner's heart hadn't really been in it, neither of them wanting to hurt the other. They had simply tossed one spell after the other, each one practically timed and always predictable. She had put hexes and curses on other students, but they had never fought back. Tonight would be her first real fight.

Lyra was anxious. She wasn't sure if she was any good at dueling. She hoped she was, but she didn't have high expectations. She had never been ranked in the top ten in her class, and was sorely lacking in experience.

She was fond of Marcus, but she did not love him. She could not put her husband first in this, especially when his ideals were opposite of hers. She grabbed one of the second years by the shoulder. He appeared startled, eyes wide in fright as she asked him where all the students were heading.

"Everyone is going to the Great Hall! Professor McGonagall is making an announcement!"

"What of Snape, and the Carrow siblings?"

Some of the fright left his face and he hopped in the air in excitement, pumping his fist. "They were kicked out of Hogwarts! No one knows or cares where they went as long as they're not here." He gave her another once over, recognition filling his face as he took a step back. "Say, aren't you that Malfoy? The one who married a Flint?"

Lyra struggled to keep any emotion off of her face. Her whole body tensed in order to stop trembling from the adrenaline rushing through her veins. "I am," she admitted softly. He took another horrified step back, about to shout for help she continued, "But I'm on your side."

"Like I've never heard that before."

She laughed quietly, taking in his determined stance. She leaned down so that they were eye to eye. "It's the truth. My husband is out there, and I will remain here. I'm sure you're not surprised to hear that he does not know about this."

He went to make another retort, but there was the last call to the Great Hall. He glanced at her once more, giving her the evil eye as he raced through the double doors. She sneaked in between them, leaning against the wall and shutting them softly. McGonagall was standing in front of the podium, determination filtering through her every pore. Some strange people that Lyra had never seen stood behind her, along with some of the teachers. At least, what was left of them.

"—evacuation will be overseen by Mr. Filch and Madam Pomfrey. Prefects, when I give the word, you will organize your House and take your charges, in an orderly fashion, to the evacuation point."

"And what if we want to stay and fight?" asked Ernie Macmillan with purpose, daring the proud teacher to forbid it. It was at that moment she noticed Harry Potter walking up and down the Gryffindor table. He had almost killed her brother that night, and any moment before this Lyra may had risked her life to extract her revenge.

But her only chance in a better world lay with him. She could no longer feel any adversity towards the dark haired boy.

"If you are of age, you may stay," Professor McGonagall answered in a resigned manor. The teacher's eyes landed on Lyra as they scanned the room, opening with surprise. It seemed she was about to say something, but then that familiar voice filtered through Hogwarts. The one Lyra hated and feared more than anything, demanding to hand over Harry Potter and that everyone would be rewarded if they did so.

After Pansy Parkinson's declaration to hand over Potter, things went rather smoothly. Each table was evacuated, many of the older students remaining to fight in the Battle for Hogwarts.

"I must say I'm rather surprised to see you here." McGonagall stood in front of her, regarding Lyra with suspicion.

"Hey, isn't that Lyra Flint?" one of the strangers asked in anger.

"Yes, it does happen to be Lyra Flint," McGonagall confirmed in a steady tone. The irony was not lost on Lyra that this was the first time the transfiguration teacher had referred to her as that.

Three wands raised to face Lyra. She watched them all resigned.

"My mum is dead because of your husband," one of them growled, her wand trembling in her fisted hand.

Lyra opened her mouth, then closed it, speechless. There was nothing she could say to make that better. She took her in, the black hair and pink tinged cheeks, swallowing thickly. She blinked rapidly, keeping the tears at bay.

"Many people are dead because of my husband," she answered finally.

"And you think you can spy on us? That we're complete idiots?"

Lyra turned to stare down at the ground, ashamed. "No, if I were you I wouldn't trust me either. I wouldn't trust a word that came out of my mouth, and would send me back where I came from."

"So why are you here if you know that?" a woman with bubblegum pink hair asked testily.

"Because I can't live in a world of the Dark Lord's creation."

They all quieted, a few of them lowering their wands.

"You only just realized that now?" McGonagall asked in an almost amused tone.

Lyra tugged at her sleeves nervously. "I thought- When I decided to go along with my parent's decision I thought it was what was best for me. I love my family," Lyra said, begging for them to understand. "I knew that if I chose this side they would burn me off the family tree just like my grandmother did with my Aunt Andromeda."

The girl with bubblegum colored hair slacked in shock, her wand arm dropping to her side. "Wait, your aunt is named Andromeda?"

Lyra nodded rapidly. "I only met her once."

One of them snorted. "What a great way to meet your cousin Tonks."

Lyra blinked obtusely, not catching onto the meaning.

"That doesn't matter at the moment," McGonagall brushed off. "What matters is why you chose now to come forward. Why is family no longer as important?"

Lyra stared at them, watching as the last of the stragglers made it out of the Great Hall. "It is. It's why I'm choosing this."

"You're an idiot," one proclaimed. "Completely mad. The Malfoys are on the other side of the war, as are the Flints. We will _not_ oh so kindly direct you to your chosen side because of your apparent confusion."

Lyra scowled. "It's not them anymore, it's my daughter."

McGonagall's brows raised, disappearing under her pointed hat. "You could protect all of your family on the other side."

"I cannot."

"Why?" Tonks asked in a loud, demanding tone.

It did not matter anymore. No matter what Josephina would be safe. If the Dark Lord won Josephina would be with the muggles hidden in the woods, if the Light gained victory hopefully that meant Lyra would make it and she'd be able to get her daughter back. "The Dark Lord does not like weakness… he would view my daughter as weak. She is not… as a normal child is," Lyra worded carefully.

"Why's that?"

"She is mentally handicapped," she admitted, giving up on all pretenses. When none of them had anything to say, Lyra continued. "My own husband would kill her if he knew. I cannot allow him to do that, nor will I allow the Dark Lord to hurt my child and use me as some vessel to bring forth more purebloods. That's all the Dark Lord wanted me for, the only reason he did not kill me." She crossed her arms, biting down on her cheek.

"He's known what I've felt about him for nearly two years now. After a Christmas party he rummaged through my mind and realized that I don't think lowly of muggleborns, and that I do not share the traditional pureblood ideals. He is the reason I was married so young. It was the only thing my parents could think to do in order to protect me. The Dark Lord… he knew how strong my loyalty for my family was and used that against me. But what he did not expect was for my feelings to be so strong for my daughter. For me to birth out anything less than perfect. So this is my only hope, my last stand. If I die my daughter is safely hidden in the muggle world where no one will hurt her because of something she cannot help."

She couldn't bring herself to look at them after pouring out her heart and soul to them. "So… you can do what you want to me tonight. But in the end I will do everything I can to fight, because a world with Lord Voldemort at its head will only lead to more death." And more pain and misery.

"She testified at Mary Caldweather's trial," Tonks said reluctantly. "Ginny told me. Mary could have come back to Hogwarts. Lyra had elevated her to half-blood status after all, but Mary was too frightened and went back into hiding."

Lyra rubbed at her throat. At last she finally knew what happened to Mary.

"She doesn't have a Death Eater's mark either," another pointed out. Lyra rubbed at the bare skin at her forearm that had been exposed when she'd pulled her sleeves up.

"I don't care what you do then. Just stay out of my way, and if you run into your husband leave him for me," the dark haired woman demanded, stomping away.

"Hestia?" the man called after her, hurrying in the direction she had disappeared in.

The rest of the people surrounding her dispersed until only Professor McGonagall stood. "What are you waiting for? Help fortify Hogwarts."

For a moment Lyra didn't know what to do, but then she raced down the halls.

She knew Fred and George were blowing up hallways, an attempt to make it harder for the Death Eater's to navigate. A number of the people with McGonagall had gone outside.

Lyra raced to the window, gasping as she watched the stone statues that had once only been decoration steadily walk across the bridge ready to fight for Hogwarts. Blue light began to head towards the sky, one after the other.

" _Protego Maxima_ ," she whispered, adding her own to the mix. She took one more glance and fled towards the stairs, taking them by twos until she laid winded against the wall. She didn't need to wonder any longer how the Death Eaters were going to get in. They were bombarding the protective shield at the moment, screeching their anger into the night.

When she finally got to the roof of Hogwarts she saw three other people were already up there, one of them being her cousin. She was holding hands with a battered man, a man that appeared to be very familiar.

"Professor Lupin?"

He turned around, looking at her in surprise. "Miss Malfoy? Well, I should actually say Mrs. Flint, shouldn't I? You were only a first year the last I saw you."

Lyra blinked, staring at the two in utter confusion.

There was no way her cousin married her old professor.

"I-yeah?" This night was not going too well for her. But what did she expect when she jumped sides so suddenly?

"My wife just realized you two were cousins. I knew because of Sirius, of course, Sirius Black. He told me once that his cousin had married Lucius Malfoy."

Lyra nodded, slowly walking over to the edge.

"Be careful," a slightly accented voice said. "It's a far drop to the bottom."

Lyra hadn't bothered to look at the last person upon the roof, too distracted by her cousin and ex-professor. He looked familiar, but Lyra could not place him.

"Kingsley Shacklebolt," he said, shaking her hand. "We might as well get to know each other before the worst comes to happen."

"We're family." It was the first thing that popped into her head. She turned a light pink, amending, "Well, we're like third or fourth cousins. Maybe fifth?" Lyra sighed. "I don't know. The Malfoys are related to everyone."

Shacklebolt snorted. "You're one of the oldest wizarding familes around. Of course you are."

Lyra turned her head up to stare at the protective spell above them, noticing the dementors. "I see why you guys are up here now. I can't do a full corporeal patronus."

"Perhaps you should go back down then," Lupin suggested. "We can handle this."

"It's only a matter of time before the shield fails," Shacklebolt said with finality.

Lyra was never very good at maths, but three wizards against a sky-full of dementors didn't seem to add up. She didn't have much longer to argue, because at that moment part of the shield shattered.

" _Expecto Patronum_!" they all shouted, making a protective circle around each other so that no one's back was uncovered. A shimmery lynx and two wolves fled into the sky, keeping the dementors at bay.

Lyra whispered the spell again, attempting to think of the happiest memory she had ever had. A glowing cloud was the result. She looked to her left to see Lupin sweating with the effort to keep the dementors at bay.

 _"Expecto Patronum. Expecto Patronum. Expecto Patronum!"_ she whispered in frustration, still receiving lackluster results. The rest of the barrier fell, and the full force of the dementors came down upon them. Lyra squeezed her eyes shut, blocking everything out as that cold, dreadful feeling washed across her. Lyra fought it, riffling through her happiest memories.

 _She was staring down at Josephina, watching her giggle as Lyra tugged at the stuffed puffskeins dangling above. Every time it bounced into the air little Joey would burst into raccorous laughter. Lyra couldn't help but let out a chuckle of amusement, charmed by her daughter's antics._

 _"Mommy loves you," Lyra whispered against her belly. "Mommy loves you very much."_

Remus Lupin cried out, pulling Lyra out of her memory and falling to his knees as his spell began to give out.

"Remus!" Tonks shouted, losing focus.

"Pay attention Nymphadora!" Lupin shouted, watching as his wolf flickered.

"Damn it to hell!" Shacklebolt bellowed, pouring more ferocity into his spell.

Lupin's spell flickered once more, before burning out. He stared wide eyed above him, attempting to get his bearings as he shouted the words clearly.

"The damned full moon! I warned you that you hadn't recovered yet. You didn't listen to me!" Tonks screeched, shifting her wolf to cover more surface area.

But there were too many, and soon enough Tonk's wand began to flicker too.

"Remus, what are you doing?" Tonks asked in panic. He had backed away unknowingly from them, distracted as he was while trying to get enough energy to cast the spell again. Her cousin shifted her wolf over towards Lupin to protect him from the dementor nearing him, leaving an opening straight to them.

" _Expecto Patronum!_ " Lyra roared, throwing every bit of energy she could muster into it and thinking of that memory of her daughter.

A blinding light burst from the tip of her wand. She closed her lids, eyes burning from the bright color. After her eyes adjusted she gasped, staring in awe at the large, iridescent bird making lazy circles above them.

"What is that?" she asked.

"An egret, and it couldn't have come any sooner." Shacklebolt let out a choked laugh, his own patronus gaining light from his giddiness.

"Kingsley," Lyra whispered, staring in front of her once she had pulled her gaze away from her patronus.

"What?"

"Tonks."

He shifted slightly to see better what she was pointing out. His dark skin paled, his hand beginning to tremble. "It seems… it seems that you called it out too late. But don't worry kid, I'm alive because of you." He cleared his throat, attempting to pull himself together. "Now let's, let's get out of here. We've done as much as we can. There's no point in sacrificing ourselves along with them."

* * *

A/N: I am currently working on a Harry Potter/Game of Thrones crossover and I am needing a beta. If anyone is interested please message me. The initial four chapters are on my profile, but I'm re-vamping those and will pull them down once I get on the right track.


	57. Chapter 57

Chapter 57

* * *

By the time she had made it downstairs the fight still did not show any signs of receding. She supposed that was good in a way. At least that meant they hadn't lost.

Kingsley and Lyra had been separated in a fight on the third floor. She had seen him take a nasty cut before deciding to give up on being nice to her sparring partner and screeching _Bombarda_.

The after math wasn't very pretty. The rest of the Death Eaters had stared at her in shock, perhaps realizing who she was. Half had fled and the other had teamed up to take her down. There were better duelers than her on that floor, but none of the people on the light side uttered spells so violent or life threatening.

Lyra hid behind a shattered wall, attempting to throw spells around it whenever there was an opening. A piece of stone exploded on top of her head after a particularly strong hex. Her vision blurred and she sat unable to gather herself after the rock had so roughly fell upon her head. She couldn't get the memory out of her mind, of Professor Lupin's lifeless corpse and the dementor pulling its face off of her cousin's features.

A kiss.

There was no coming back from that. Tonks was dead to the world, an empty husk of what she was. Lyra had finally met her cousin, and only moments later lost her.

Perhaps Lyra would be joining her soon. Lyra was in no condition to fight.

" _Colloshoo! Everte Statum! Expelliarmus!_ " a voice shouted from in front of her. She blinked viciously, attempting to force herself to stop seeing double and battle whoever had managed to get on her side of the wall. After a moment, and some startled shouts from the Death Eaters, she figured it had to be someone on her side.

"Lyra! I didn't know you were on our side!" the boy shouted, sliding up next to her and throwing another spell over the splintering wall. "You've got a bad cut on your head. I think you'll be okay s'long as you didn't get a concussion."

Her vision finally cleared, more or less going back to her normal acuity. She blinked, unwilling to believe her eyes. " _Neville?!_ "

He grinned at her, peaking his head over the wall and ducking immediately when a rush of spells came their way. "Yep! Good to see you on our side! We need all the help we can get. Voldemort has giants and werewolves and colossal spiders and, well, everything!"

"Wait, he has _giants_?!"

This couldn't be good.

"Yep," he answered cheerfully, tossing another hex out. "You should see the battle outside! It's bloody mad!"

Lyra rubbed at her forehead, feeling hopeless. How was anyone supposed to win with all of that stacked against them?

" _Protego Horribilis!_ " she shouted, standing up. There were only five left. Well, six now. One of the Death Eaters had enervated his brethren. The rest of them were throwing spells at Neville and Lyra, but none were getting through.

"Neat! What does that spell do exactly?" Neville asked, standing up.

"Protects against dark magic," Lyra shrugged. "Now is our chance. _Orbis!_ "

The Death Eater panicked as he was sucked into the stone ground, losing his wand as he fought to pull himself up. Another one tripped on the spiraling wand, effectively knocking himself out when his head smashed upon the wall.

"Neat! Two in one." Neville gave her a high-five, which she hesitantly returned. It was the first time she ever did such a thing.

They easily handed the last four, none of them catching on to exactly what type of shield Lyra had cast. "I'll see you around afterwards hopefully!" Neville shouted, running down the hall where the sounds of a fight could be heard.

Lyra was almost certain she had hallucinated the last five minutes of her life. There was no way that was _Neville Longbottom_. Last she had seen of him he had been blubbering after her brother had caused hell for him. She most definitely had been knocked by that rock harder than she thought.

She shook her head, running the opposite way. She was nearly hit by a stray spell as she turned into the next corridor. She gave a startled glance at the werewolf that was mere feet from her. He stared at her in confusion.

"Yer Flint's wife. Wha'der'ya doin' ere'?"

Her mouth opened and closed, before calling out, " _Petrificus Totalus!"_

He fell down the nearby stairs, pulling the other two werewolves attention to her.

"Yer gonna regret that girl," one of them snarled. "You'll be for the Dark Lord, as traitorous as ye are."

The other student that had been cornered took this as her chance to attack. " _Flippendo!_ "

One of the werewolves slid back, almost stumbling as his foot jerked off the top stair. "Ha! Werewolves are made of tougher stuff! We're not like you wizards, so weak and feeble."

" _Flippendo Tria_!" Lyra screamed, keeping his words in mind and using a stronger version of the spell to blast him across the hall. She watched as he heavily hit the stone, tumbling all the way down to the next floor. The last werewolf stared at her in shock.

" _Glisseo!_ " the other student shouted. Lyra watched as the stairs turned into a slide and he toppled down. "I always knew that spell would one day come in handy," the girl grinned. "Come on, let's go before he figures out what I did."

They hurried down the hall together. "My name is Hannah. I'm a Hufflepuff, if you can't tell," she huffed out of breath, pointing to her dirtied black and yellow vest.

"Lyra, I was a Gryffindor."

Hannah's eyes widened in recognition, but whatever she was about to say was cut off by the wall to the left of them exploding. Lyra peaked her head through the opening, noticing a head of familiar red hair.

" _Expelliarmus! Immobulus!_ " Ginny cried, effectively rendering her opponent helpless.

" _Ventus!_ " Hannah said jumping into the fray without hesitation, knocking back a snatcher with a powerful gust of wind.

Lyra had gone blank upon seeing Ginny, forgetting why she was even here. " _Avifors_ ," Lyra said finally, pulling Ginny's attention to her.

The Death Eater morphed into a blue bird, plummeting to the floor and skidding into a mound of pebbles. It wasn't her best spell, but it had neutralized the enemy.

Neither Lyra nor Ginny moved, staring at the other and waiting for a cue.

"Er, guys?" Hannah asked nervously, jumping from one foot to the other.

Ginny's eyes filled with tears and she rushed over to Lyra, nearly knocking her over. "I missed you so much!" Ginny murmured in her ear. Lyra hugged her back tightly.

"Me too, I'm glad you're safe."

"I thought you'd be mad at me."

"I was."

"Not anymore?"

Lyra pulled back, wiping her eyes. "No, although I'm betting Romilda still is."

Ginny snorted in laughter. "I think she wanted to kill me after I told her I was dating Harry." She quieted, becoming serious. "She went into hiding with her family a few months back. Some Death Eaters attacked her mum and dad and she's been gone ever since."

With a pureblood for a mother and a muggle for a father Lyra wasn't surprised.

"Are her parents okay?"

"I'm not sure. After she found out she had Emma pack a bag and they disappeared that night."

"Um, guys? Catchuplatertheresagiantabouttobreakthroughthewindow," Hannah slurred.

"What?" Lyra asked incredulously.

Glass shattered above their heads. Both Lyra and Ginny dropped to the floor protecting their faces. When Lyra looked back up a giant arm was being pulled back from the window.

"It's the front of Hogwarts," Lyra whispered, jumping up. She picked up a stray rock, weighing it in her hand before tossing it as hard as she could through the window.

"What are you doing?" Ginny screeched.

"I hear there's giants outside. I think it's time to see them. _Bombarda!_ "

The rest of the window fell away revealing the fight on the grounds. Ginny sat in stunned silence as Hannah whistled. "That's a lot of giants."

Lyra winced as she saw a wizard get stomped by one of them. It was obvious her side was struggling against them. "Let's target the giants from here."

"But their skin is like a werewolve's," Ginny protested.

"Exactly, so they're going to need a lot more help." Lyra took station at her window. Hannah shrugging as she broke a window and began to curse the giant beings.

Ginny walked up next to her. "As long as we can, I suppose."

In the end all of them had reverted to nasty spells. It was the only thing that made the slightest dent against the creatures. The three girls had managed to help take down two giants before some of the Death Eaters noticed they were attacking from above and began to throw Unforgivables at them.

"What do we do now?" Ginny whispered, hiding behind the wall.

"Uh, run?" Hannah said nervously. She had nearly gotten hit by the killing curse and it had left her shaken.

"No," Lyra said stubbornly. "We blow it all up."

"What?! Lyra that's crazy talk," Ginny hissed. "Our people are down there too."

"But there's clusters of Death Eaters. We can aim."

"We can't chance hitting our own."

"And that's what's going to make us lose the war. Do you think the giants or vampires or snatchers are afraid to hurt their own people to kill one of us?" The giants did not particularly care who they stepped on, and the snatchers were careless. As for the vampires, it was evident Voldemort made a mistake making an ally of them. They merely grabbed the closest human near them and disappeared to feed.

"Then we're no better than them!" Ginny growled. "We have to be better than them. It's the world we're fighting for."

"They outnumber us ten to one. Let them kill each other off," Hannah grumbled.

Lyra frowned, realizing they were right. She couldn't hurt their own people to try to get one over on the other side.

"You really look like death Lyra," Ginny whispered. "Are you okay?"

Lyra rubbed at her face, feeling the dried blood from where her head had been hit by the rock earlier.

"It looks worse than it is?"

Probably not, but there was no point in making Ginny fret. Besides, Lyra was almost certain her wound had stopped bleeding at this point.

They backed away from the wall slowly, careful to not give any indication to which way they left. "I heard you had your baby," Ginny murmured, watching her with a strange look on her face.

Lyra smiled softly. "Yes, a little girl. I named her Josephina."

"How old is she?"

"Seven months."

"I feel bad for your daughter. You'll probably castrate every guy that attempts to even flirt with her."

Lyra went to deny it, but then she realized she wasn't so sure. Would Lyra ever view any man as good enough for her daughter?

She almost felt bad for Josephina, almost.

"I will accept whatever boy she chooses… so long as he is adequate."

"She'll have a choice?"

Lyra arched a single brow. "She'll always have a choice."

"Unlike you," Ginny whispered. "You know Colin fell apart after you left. When he found out the next day that you had been expelled he burst into tears right in the Great Hall."

"So that's what that was about!" Hannah shouted. "Wait, you and Colin liked each other?"

"I loved him," Lyra admitted, stunning Ginny.

"He loved you to," Ginny said after a moment.

"I know." He had made that much obvious.

"You crushed him, whatever you did to him."

"It was the only way to keep him safe. Surely you heard about my husband?"

Ginny winced. "He's one of Voldemort's most vicious Death Eaters."

Lyra felt sick to her stomach. She couldn't understand how Marcus could be so kind to her yet so rancorous to other human beings. It had never added up in Lyra's mind.

"Does Flint… hurt you?"

"Never," Lyra answered immediately.

"I was so worried for you," Ginny murmured, nibbling on her bottom lip. "Are you sure you're okay? Lyra, you look like you're about to drop dead."

"It was that stupid rock," Lyra grumbled. "I'm fine. I can make it."

In the next hall over they could hear a battle. They all put on brave faces before jumping into the fray. Faces began to blur together, and somehow Ginny and Hannah got separated from her. Lyra threw up another protective spell, ducking when she realized it was the Cruciatus and it would go straight through her barrier. She gasped, struggling to get up from the ground.

"Not looking too good," her opponent teased. She rolled across the ground to avoid another curse, letting out a cry as she felt something pierce her skin. She twisted to look at her leg, feeling faint when she saw the piece of metal protruding from her thigh. She pulled herself backwards, firing off a Confundus spell. He hadn't expected her to get back up easily, so the spell hit him squarely in the chest. He stared around him in confusion, completely lost, and Lyra uttered a sleep spell and left him where he fell.

" _Everte Statum_!" Lyra cried, panicking as a snatcher and a vampire converged on her. The tips of her last enemy's fingers were on her neck as she screamed, " _Immobulus! Immobulus!"_

She shrieked as his full weight barreled into her, forcing the protruding metal deeper in her thigh. Lyra shoved him off her, breaking down into tears as the pain coursed through her leg.

"Come on," a stranger whispered, attempting to help her up. "We have to get you out of here. You're in no condition to fight."

"No," Lyra denied, pulling away to lean heavily against the wall. "If I can get this thing out of my leg I'll be fine."

"It's not only that. You know, I can't even tell your hair color underneath all that blood."

"I'm fine," Lyra growled stubbornly. She had to give this her all. She had to live with the results of this, and Lyra would not stop fighting until she passed out or worse.

"Come on soldier, you've done well," he teased.

She stared at him, taking a deep breath in before yanking the metal out of her leg. She screamed, watching as blood gushed from her wound.

"Are you an idiot!" he shouted. "You're gonna end up dying from blood loss if you keep it up. Let's go."

Lyra tried to fight him as he picked her up in his arms, but the world wouldn't stop moving. It all twirled in a sluggish, never ending circle. She pressed her hands against his chest, attempting to pull away from him and go back to the fight. It didn't even phase him. She wasn't even sure if he realized what she was trying to do.

He placed her on a cot in the infirmary, patting her head. "We're fighting for a better world, but there's no point in it if we're all dead. Get some rest, hopefully when you wake up this will all be over."

Lyra twisted on her side, his words finally penetrating her. She blinked feeling exhausted, but froze when she noticed the head of familiar mousy brown next to her.

"His pulse is slowing, we're losing him," Madame Pomfrey said grimly, forcing another potion down her patient's throat.

"We have to cut our losses Poppy. We're not equipped to save a wound of this magnitude. He's not going to make it no matter what we do."

Pomfrey sighed, her head dropping low in defeat before following the healer across the room to the next person.

Lyra dragged herself out of the bed, unable to stand on her injured leg. The room spun but she fought against it, inching towards him.

"Colin?" she whispered, her voice cracking.

He remained unresponsive, his face deathly pale. Her eyes filled with tears and she squeezed his fist. "Colin, you'll be alright. You have to make it."

She checked his pulse at his wrist. When she couldn't feel it she laid her head against his chest, ignoring the fresh sheet of blood on her face from it. She took a jagged breath in when she heard a sluggish heartbeat.

"You're not going to die Colin," she said with determination, ignoring any pain she was feeling. "I won't let you. I'm going to fix you."

But she realized she didn't know many healing spells. " _Episky_."

She heard something snap into place, one of his fingers. She whispered the spell again, hoping for better results but getting none. "Colin," she begged, shaking him. "Help me. I can't do it. I don't know how."

She laid her head against his ribs and sighed when she still heard it beating. "I never told you I love you. I should have."

Her breath trembled in her throat and she squeezed her eyes shut. "I love you, I love you."

As her ear rested on top of his chest silence was her answer.


	58. Chapter 58

Chapter 58

* * *

It all began with a picture.

Colin took pictures of everything and everyone. The magical world was all so new and amazing. It was beyond his imagination. He wanted to grasp it all at once and covet it for his own. So he did it in the way he had always loved to grab moments: with pictures. It was one of these pictures that began it all. He had snapped a picture of Lyra Malfoy, liking how well her eyes and hair matched along with her poised, aristocratic features. He wasn't able to look at it until he got to history with Professor Binns, who never paid attention to anything. Not the flying paper birds with messages written on them, or the arguing students in the back of the classroom. Colin was half certain Binns was as deaf as he was dead, or perhaps he had selective hearing. He wasn't quite sure.

He was sorting through all the photos when he came upon hers, speechless. The light made her hair shine radiantly, her eyes a mesmerizing blue. A soft smile played across her lips, a hidden moment most would not had caught if he had not flashed it at that exact second. At the end it showed her going back to her regular 'disdainfully bored ' expression, as he liked to call it. Before he had only seen her as cold, and a bit stuck up if he were honest. Half of his mates weren't sure how she even got into Gryffindor. She was pretty, yeah, but too frigid for him to ever go up to.

But now it was different. He could finally see her as she was, memorialized in this photograph. It was then he realized had to have more of her. She was the perfect subject. What artists could only vie to come across in their lifetime, and he had found her at _eleven_. Taking pictures of her became an obsession of his, and soon it became more.

His thoughts began to linger on her white-blonde locks and darkly tinged pink lips bordering on red. That slight smirk on her face when she got something right in class or received good marks. The shades of blue in her eyes and her delicate nature. How it looked as if she were a doll, able to be broken by the slightest of winds. It had taken everything in him to finally go up to her and say hello. He remembered the day. He had been sweating profusely, his jaw clenched to keep back the tremors. But he fought it all back to bring forth a smile for her. She was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen after all, skies above him. She was pureblood, one of the last of a long, distinct line dating farther back than he feared to know. He somewhat understood the pureblood game, he knew that she was valuable. He would be lucky to call her a friend let alone anything else his thoughts drifted too.

It had been a reward in of itself. She had stared directly into his eyes; partly startled, moderately suspicious, and equal parts cold and aloof. He was met with the full brilliance of them head on, nearly walking into a suit of armor once she was out of sight. It has caused all his mates to burst out in laughter at his befuddled features. He could care less what they thought, she knew of him. She knew of his existence.

* * *

Doubts had swarmed in his mind the night he had followed her sneaking out past hours. Maybe he was trying to speed things up too fast, or perhaps Lyra would find him too bold for her liking. She still hadn't said anything else to him besides a hello every now and then. None-the-less, he forced himself to continue walking, convincing himself that the worse she could do was tell him to go away.

Somehow that felt like the end of the world.

As if her scorn would make him sink to the most bottom of pits where he would lie without sustenance or the will to continue. He would be humiliated and defeated all at once. But he had try, otherwise he would continue to only be able to watch her from afar. He wasn't sure what he considered worse: having her know of him and hate him, or her not knowing him at all.

He found her in the defense room, in the back room where all the junk and props were kept. A man with similar features to hers was towering over her with disdain. At first he thought it was real, but then he noticed the opened trunk from where the boggart had been brought out weeks before.

Colin hadn't realized Lyra Malfoy could be vulnerable.

She always seemed so untouchable, as if the trials of each day were only for mere mortals and she were a goddess among them. Physically fragile was one thing, but this was different. When she was out among her peers nothing appeared to bother her. When with her friends that mask began to thaw, but that was the only exception to that rule.

But here she was, and he could finally see her as what she truly was. A twelve-year-old girl, uncertain and afraid, just as he was a twelve-year-old boy, dazzled by this ethereal appearing girl. She was human, he realized at that moment, and the thought struck him heavily.

That was all the prodding he needed to try and get her to accept him.

* * *

Colin's best friend was convinced he was a stalker.

He couldn't help that he spoke of Lyra Malfoy so much. It was an unhealthy infatuation on his part, he could acknowledge that, but he still could do nothing to stop himself. She was kinder now, a bit softer on the edges. In her first and second year she had been aloof, but now she had warmed up to Hogwart's. It was not so strange to see her laughing with her friends, nudging one of their shoulders as she teased them. She was not a galaxy away like before, she was here. Among them all in the flesh.

It did not take away from her beauty.

He'd lost count of all the pictures he had taken of her over the years, and at this point he did not want to know. It would be sickening even for him to see how far this had gone.

But something had changed. He held her friendship, and she knew that he took pictures of her. She didn't seem to mind too horribly, more worried about what that betrothed of hers would think. Colin was sickened when he found out who would marry her. Marcus Flint. An ugly, hulking brute. He was known for his rough tactics during quidditch and bullying the younger students. Lyra couldn't marry a man like that. She deserved so much more, not that she seemed aware of this. She looked content enough to have Flint for her husband and had never voiced otherwise.

It had been difficult to sneak into the Yule Ball, but worth it. Lyra was there. He itched for his camera more than ever, his mind racing with all the moments he could have snapped by now. Colin nearly laughed when she eyed her date, Poliakoff, with evident disgust before quickly changed her expression to one of neutrality. She disappeared from his side the first chance she had, dipping between the twirling couples on the dance floor.

He couldn't believe his luck when she agreed to leave the ballroom to take pictures of her. It was things like this that let him know Lyra was the perfect subject. She ignored the camera so well, she was at ease with it. There were not many people who would put up with their picture being taken constantly, not even his own mother allowed it.

He came back into the room and when he saw her his lungs ceased to function. She was beautiful in the moonlight. Just as soon as he would get used to her she would knock him off his feet like this. He wasn't sure if he'd ever get over it. He snapped a picture of her, alerting Lyra that he had returned. She asked to see it and he showed her, watching her shrug with disinterest when she saw it. He could tell she found nothing monumental about the picture.

He smiled at her and something warmed in her eyes. Something that had never been there before.

It was then he knew he had hope.

* * *

By the next year he had become emboldened. He knew Lyra held feelings for him, even if she did not realize this herself. He could not really tell considering she hid things so well when she wanted to. But he worked on her, step by step. Piece by piece, until she was putty in his hands. He wasn't certain how he had accomplished it all by the end of it, but he had.

He had been bold. He hadn't held back. He possibly may have taken advantage of her, but he couldn't bring himself to care when the fruition of his efforts finally brushed his lips.

That kissed had burned through his veins, and all at once he realized this was all so much more than he initially thought it was. He had not realized how far this had gone for him, how much he had grown to care for her. This was much more than an obsession, or a way to gain a perfect subject. It was very simple.

Colin loved her.

This was love in its rawest and most vulnerable form. This was realizing the only life he would find worth living was with her at his side. This was knowing what his present and future was. This was wishes and wants and dreams; things he could only hope to happen. When she opened her eyes and stared back at him he realized he might have as much of a chance as Flint did.

And the balance shifted.

* * *

His hand rested on her hip, her head lied on top of his arm. Her fingers fluttered across his chest, expression relaxed and thoughtful.

When they lie here like this, as if the rest of the world did not exist, it was his favorite moments. Because that was when Lyra Malfoy was truly his. There was no controlling family looming in her vision, or pending nuptials. It was just the boy she cared for enjoying her company.

She loved him. She didn't know this like Colin did. But she would one day. Colin would make sure of it.

* * *

He never thought he could feel so defeated, so shattered. So utterly annihilated in his life, but Lyra had done this to him.

She had left him.

Somehow despite all his careful planning he had never factored it in. The fact that she loved her family as much as him.

More, if she had chosen them. How cold she had been to him, how cruel. He never thought that part of her would ever be seen by him. Colin had always been special. He had been allowed to _know_ her. He had gained her friendship and then her love. He knew the taste of her lips and the willowy scent that was a permanent stain in his memory. He had seen how vulnerable she was without the walls she surrounded herself in, how wide and trusting her eyes were when she looked at him.

She had let him in.

After thinking deeply on her words he had realized she did not mean them despite the cold way she had uttered them. But he also knew she was truly gone, snatched away from him right under his nose by a bigger, more brutal man. Lyra was strong, he knew she was, but could she survive _him_? Flint would crush her, breaking the flimsy wings she struggled to soar with.

"I still don't get it," Daniel McGee mumbled through a mouthful of pumpkin pastry. "I don't see what you see in her to obsess like you do. She's pretty, I'll give you that, but she's not everything you make her out to be." He gestured over to Ginny Weasley at the Gryffindor table, giggling with her friends. "See, look at her. She's a beauty _, and_ has got a great figure unlike Lyra." A glance at Colin's face had Daniel backtracking. "Not bashing or anything but she doesn't have much going for her in those departments. A little to small for my taste. Ginny has a temper too if you're into that sort of thing." He gave Colin a devious wink, glancing over to the Slytherin table. "And then there's Astoria Greengrass, not like you have much of a chance with her either. But she has that dainty thing going on like Lyra does. Then there's Luna Lovegood if you like the blonde thing, although completely bloody mad if you ask me… or… just about anyone! But my point is there's more in this world than just Lyra Malfoy. Besides, she _married_ now, Colin. You don't have a chance! You never did. I told you that from the very beginning. Sure, she's a pretty face, but that's all she's got going for her. She's pure ice, sure to burn anything near her."

Colin's brow wrinkled in distaste, glaring harshly at his friend but deciding to keep his mouth shut. Daniel did not understand, he never would. He would never get the gift of truly knowing Lyra Druella Malfoy for what she truly was, not what she projected to the world.

Colin frowned, a sudden feeling of weariness and loneliness filling him. He would never have her. Not as long as her family and Flint were around. Colin was lost, he had no clue where to go from here, what to do. Every single plan he ever made for the future included Lyra. There was no one else out there for him, not after he had found his soul mate. His perfect match.

Colin prepared himself for a life of loneliness and dejection amid the tumultuous world it was beginning to become.

After all, he had nothing without her.

* * *

It was while he was on the run from snatchers that he began to feel hope again.

"I'm hungry," his brother Dennis complained, scratching at his chest. Dean Thomas, Griphook, Kevin Entwhistle, and Dirk Cresswell were crowded around a fire struggling to stay warm. They had found each other after the world turned to shit around them.

"Well you're out of luck kid. Ted Tonks used magic and looked what happened to him," Cresswell grumbled. The ministry was able to trace Ted's wand. It was the only thing that made sense.

They were able to get out of there for the most part. Ted had payed the price and Gornuk hadn't reacted swiftly enough. He was a surely goblin at best but at least he had filled the silence. Now it was eerily quiet, and with the death of two of their members everything was so suffocating.

None of them dared to used their wands now. They were too afraid they would be traced, which meant they had to live off the land. None of them knew anything about that except Kevin who used to go on camping trips with his dad as a kid. Usually they hoped the random mushroom or berry they picked wasn't poisonous. All of them had been able to combine their muggle money to get a bow and arrow, not that it was of any use. In the two weeks they had it none of them had managed to snag any game.

"I wonder how Lyra is doing," Colin sighed.

Dirk Cresswell snorted. "Living the life, I'm sure. She's certainly not begging for her next meal or wondering if these moments are her last."

"We're going to win this war," Colin said with certainty.

"I think Potter has abandoned us," Dean said quietly. "I mean, there hasn't been any news since he went into hiding. What if he decided everything was too hard? What if he had enough of being the hero?"

The group shifted restlessly, unsettled by Dean's words.

"Potter wouldn't give up like that," Colin answered. "He cares too much. He's a good person."

"Good people make bad decisions everyday," Kevin shrugged. Griphook made a noise of agreement, staring deeply into the fire.

"No," Colin denied. "This isn't the end. One day we'll be free to use magic like we once were, and Deatheater's will be a thing of the past. A note in history, or a story we tell our grandchildren that they don't quite believe because of how crazy this all sounds!"

"That sounds like a great dream," Denis sighed wistfully.

"It will be a reality," Colin responded stubbornly. "And I'll be next to my wife, Lyra Druella Creevey, and we'll have a houseful of children and grow old together like we always wanted to. There will be no Marcus Flint when that day comes, and we'll be able to be together."

Griphook rolled his eyes. "You have great dreams, child. I hope when you die you still believe in them."

Colin stared at him, unable to respond. Griphook was melancholy, Colin reminded himself. He had just lost his close friend, Gornuk. All of them weren't going to die. It didn't make sense. Good always prevailed, even if they had to suffer for a while they would prevail.

Colin had to believe that, or else there would be no point in all of this. Lyra would be his, and all of this would be a far away dream.

* * *

A/N: This chapter wasn't originally in the story. I just wrote it about a month ago while editing after feeling a need for it. It shows what Lyra appears to be on the outside, and what Colin thinks of her and why he goes through such lengths to try and keep her. I hope all of you enjoy this chapter. It's probably not up to usual standards as I didn't have a beta look at it.

As shocking as this may sound, in my initial outline Colin was not in it. Not in this capacity. This romance was something that came up as I was writing and went along with it. Before there was no other love interest because I felt like love triangles are too overplayed and everywhere. But this just fit so well, and I think I chose right because so many of you guys love Colin.

Besides, I like to comfort myself by saying this isn't exactly like a love triangle. There's none of that back and forth stuff and it's not really boy vs. boy but boy vs. family.

At least, that's what I like to say. ;)


	59. Chapter 59

Chapter 59

* * *

As bad as her injuries had looked, a bit of magic and a few potions fixed Lyra up good as new. There were no signs of war upon her body, not even the shimmer of a light scar. All she has were memories that plagued and ripped into her.

It had been as that strange man said, the one that had carried her across Hogwarts' debris-stricken grounds. She woke up and the war was over. Potter had won and the wizarding world was safe from the clutches of a mad man. Even though the battle was over, a war was still being fought. Many of the Death Eaters had refused to give up, going into hiding and holding out hope that the Dark Lord would rise again.

One of them being her husband.

Lyra would no longer sleep at home, too afraid of him making a sudden appearance. He was sure to know by now her part on the light's side. It was because of this that Lyra had continued to keep her daughter with the muggles she had found. She would watch from the tree line as they played with Josephina. They truly loved her and thought of her as their own.

Lyra stared at her surroundings, taking in the lackluster lighting and corners filled with murky darkness. She dragged her nail across the wooden table making an indent against it, and for some reason it filled her with the deepest pleasure.

"Where is your husband?"

"I don't know," she hissed, glaring at the auror and becoming cross. She wasn't sure how many times she could be asked that until it sunk in that Lyra really didn't have a clue of his whereabouts.

One of the aurors banged his fists on the metal table, startling her enough to force a jump out of her.

"You think the fact that your daughter has been missing is something we did not take note of?" he pressed, leaning towards her. "I know you. I know Death Eaters. As soon as we let you go you will disappear to wherever your husband is, one big happy family," he said bitter, pain streaking across his eyes.

They had been holding her here for questioning for the past twelve hours. She was tired, and she understood there was not much she could do to prove her innocence.

"She is not missing," Lyra murmured in a resigned manor. "Only hidden from whoever may wish to hurt her." Which included the light side. People on both sides of the war had wounds, and some of them would never heal. It brought things out of people that a person would never expect.

The questioner grinned maliciously at her. "You think we actually believe that? It wasn't us that were tearing muggles limb from limb."

"No," she agreed in a somber tone. "But it was certainly your side that attempted to kill me when I was eight months pregnant."

The man pulled away, taken aback. "That was not me."

She leaned forward, staring firmly into his eyes to press the point further. "Just like it wasn't me that was killing muggles. You're misplacing your anger. It's my husband you're angry at, not me."

"Then tell me where he is. If you tell me we'll let you go." When Lyra remained quiet, he continued, "The war is over. The Chosen One has won. Your father already has gotten his wand broken for his part in the war, I don't think you want to be next."

She stiffened.

Lyra had no wish to find Marcus. All she cared about now was Josephina. She was sure to be disowned from the Malfoys, her husband had been one of the Dark Lord's most notorious followers, and then there was Colin….

She didn't like to think about him, it hurt too much. Part of her couldn't believe what had happened to him, but…

No. She must not think about him.

Someone opened the door, gesturing for the aurors to come out and speak privately. Lyra exhaled a breath of relief as soon as the door closed, rubbing at her face. This was the result of the war. She had to accept its consequences.

The door opened shortly and her questioner came back in, his face screwed up in displeasure. "You may go."

She blinked, not quite believing him. "What do you mean?"

"If you want to stay here be my guest. I would love nothing more."

"No, no," she said, hurrying to shove her chair under the table. "I'm leaving."

It was obvious why she had been let go as soon as she got into the waiting room. Arms wrapped around her, hugging her tight. "They had you in there forever. I couldn't stand it any longer. I got Harry involved and he pulled a few strings. I guess it pays off to be dating the savior of the world."

Lyra let out a breath of relief, holding her friend tightly in her arms.

"They want you to go to trial," Ginny said without preamble.

"For what?"

"I- a lot of things. They're just angry. I promise you'll be alright. I won't let them arrest you."

"But I fought on your side."

"They think you did that because you knew we would win and wished to gain protection this way." Ginny pulled back, unable to meet Lyra's gaze. "People are irrational right now, still grieving over their lost loved ones." When Lyra said nothing, Ginny continued, "How do you feel about your husband? I know you said he never hurt you, but…" she trailed off, hesitating.

"I never grew to love him if you're asking that. I was fond of him, but now I'm more frightened. I-I have to admit I'm afraid of how he will take my betrayal. What he will do when he sees me."

Ginny bit down on her lip, nodding her head. "There is one way to prove your innocence."

"What's that?"

"Testify against your husband when the time comes."

Neither of them said a word, Ginny's advice weighing heavily inside Lyra.

* * *

Lyra was weak willed. She had meant to keep her daughter safe, but she couldn't stay away. Instead she fled the country, hiding in a shabby hotel in Ireland with Josephina.

Joey clapped her hands, giggling as Lyra made faces at her.

"My sweet girl," Lyra teased, picking her up. "I know you missed me." Lyra could tell Josephina missed Marcus too, but there was nothing to do for that. They had both made their decisions and now they had to live with them.

Ginny had been updating Lyra on the search for Mary and Romilda. So far they had only found some traces of Mary. She had used her wand once since becoming legal, and the ministry had traced it. Ginny was certain they'd be able to find her soon.

Lyra had gotten a letter in the mail telling her of her court date. Ginny had promised it was all protocol, but Lyra was not so certain. There were only so many strings she could pull for Lyra.

For now Lyra would spend as much time as she could with her daughter. She wasn't certain what she would do if she was convicted. Lyra didn't trust just any witch or wizard to take care of Joey. The Flints were a dark family, and many people hated anything to do with that now. Lyra couldn't ask Ginny to take care of her either. Ginny still had a life to live, and was with the person she loved. Lyra would not place the burden of raising a child on Ginny, not after everything she had done for Lyra.

* * *

A/N: I have finally finished editing this story! There's still 13 chapters left to post because there's so many things left to wrap up. The last chapter is an epiloue so that you guys know how everything ended up. Thank all of you for reviewing last chapter!


	60. Chapter 60

Chapter 60

* * *

Lyra sat nervously tapping her foot on the linoleum floor. She twisted towards Luna, who had come to give Lyra some moral support.

"Are you nervous?" Luna asked, staring around her with wide eyes.

Lyra gave a startled chuckle. "Of course I am."

Luna hummed in agreement, nodding her head to some unheard beat. Ginny was already in the court room attempting to meet with Lyra's lawyer and cement some things out.

"It's horrible, what happened to Colin," Luna said gravely.

Lyra's heart clenched at his name. She gritted her teeth, attempting to banish him from her thoughts.

It hurt too much to think of him. If she did she would fall apart, and she definitely didn't need that right now. At night she awoke from nightmares, remembering his face the way she had last seen it. Cold, pale. Lifeless.

Bloodied.

Lyra hoped with all of her heart he had at least heard the last words she spoke to him. She wanted Colin to know that she had loved him, and had never stopped. She had never told him that, and it was one of her biggest regrets. Sure, he said he knew. But that wasn't the same as hearing those three sacred words. Lyra had realized a part of her had wished to be with Colin after the war. It wouldn't have mattered anymore. Her family would have disowned her and Marcus divorced her.

But things never seemed to work out the way Lyra wished them to.

"It doesn't matter," Lyra answered, her voice gruff. "He's gone, like everyone else."

Luna quirked her head, much like a bird would. "He's not gone, simply left from this plane of life. Just as my mother has."

Lyra bit down on her cheek, not wanting to get into an argument of what happened when a person died.

"Did you know there's a veil in the ministry?" Lyra's brows furrowed in confusion, and Luna continued, "It's in the Department of Mysteries. We all saw it when we went there to get Harry's godfather at the ministry. Although it had been a trap… Sirius Black died, fell into the veil." Luna quieted, staring at the wall blankly. "I heard my mum behind the veil. I wanted to go back there and visit, but I had a feeling it was a one way ticket." She sighed tiresomely. "I suppose I'll have to wait my turn."

Lyra trembled, attempting to articulate some of her words. "Where is this veil?"

A court official came out of the room, interrupting their conversation. "The court case of Lyra Flint is in accord. May all applicable people enter into the court room!"

"I'll see you then. I'm sure you'll win," Luna said airily, floating into the room and taking a seat near a head of familiar black hair.

Lyra nervously bit on the side of her cheek, staring at the wooden chair in the center of the room. She was not too enthusiastic about sitting there. She had seen how those golden chains had slinked their way around Mary's wrists and ankles, binding her unwillingly. She ignored the way everyone stared at her, having eyes only for that chair.

"If you would sit down Mrs. Flint the case could begin," the done up judge said with a slither of irritation. Lyra gritted her teeth and purposefully marched over to the center, placing herself down in the chair. She waited to be bound, muscles tensed in anticipation, but thankfully nothing occurred.

From the side of her vision she could see Luna, Ginny, and Potter. Surprisingly Ronald Weasley was also there, but Lyra was assuming that was because of Potter and Ginny. Lyra and Ron Weasley had never particularly gotten along. She never got along with any of the Golden Trio actually.

The judge cleared her throat. "The disciplinary hearing on the sixth of June for offenses by Lyra Druella Flint nee Malfoy residing at Flint Manor, Hampshire. Interrogator will be Damon Stretfield, defendant Hermione Granger."

Lyra let out a stifled gasp, turning towards Ginny in question. Ginny gave her an encouraging nod along with a brief smile. Just by having Hermione Granger, known muggleborn and part of the reason the Second Wizarding War was over, be Lyra's defendant would speak volumes. Not many people were willing to go after the three of them, elevated to almost godly status. They were practically worshipped, especially Harry Potter. After all, they were able to have a better world because of the three of them, without fear or worrying of their safety night after night.

But she also knew of Damon Stretfield, a muggleborn that had graduated a few years earlier from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He had always been known as studious, but the war had been taxing on everyone. Part of his family had been killed by a group of snatchers while they were on the run and he was one of the few survivors. It had left him bitter and bent on revenge. Lyra couldn't blame him. If she were in his shoes she would be the same way he was, probably worse off. While Lyra's family did not contact her, they were alive. Lyra still had Josephina too, something many people could not brag about.

Damon Stretfield stepped up from the bench, cracking his neck with a determined look in his eye. She could tell going up against Hermione Granger had not left him perturbed in the slightest. Lyra wasn't actually sure how good a defendant Granger would be. Lyra remembered those years back at the Hog's Head, how horrible Granger had been at public speaking. Lyra also knew the muggleborn would try her hardest at anything set before her.

"Mrs. Flint," he said, an edge of derisiveness in his tone. "Today you are being tried for the aid of a known Death Eater, your husband Marcus Flint. You are being charged for the hiding of a Death Eater, Marcus Flint once again; and you are also being held partially responsible for not coming forward with information of You-Know-Who before the war began. What do you say to those charges?"

Lyra folded her hands in her lap, swallowing thickly. Two out of three of the charges were true. She had known about the Dark Lord much longer than most of the Wizarding population had, and also knew about Marcus being a Death Eater long before he started becoming known as one of the Dark Lord's most violent followers.

It was not easy, coming up with an answer. Her family was finally free of the Dark Lord's clutches, and already paid for their crimes. What would get her out of trouble would bring them back into the spot light. She couldn't do that to them, nor could she leave Josephina out in the world for no one to care for her. Josephina would already have a hard life being mentally handicapped, let alone having a mentally scarring adoptive family that would hate her because of who she was born as.

Perhaps Lyra should give up and take all the blame. If Ginny had tried so hard to get a fair trial for Lyra certainly she would find a good home for Lyra's little girl. Having Josephina seized from Lyra would be unbearable, but in the end maybe that was what's best. A woman as Joey's mother who did not have any baggage, who did not have nightmares and make poor choices. Lyra loved her daughter like no other, but if Lyra had learned anything these past few years it was that love was not always enough.

If it was Colin would still be alive and her family wouldn't hate her.

She could see Ginny shaking her head no, telling Lyra to deny all claims. But Lyra had already been destroyed, the only thing that had been holding her together was the fact that hopefully she would be able to keep Josephina.

"I never knew where my husband left to that night. I have not seen him since before the war, when he told me and our daughter goodbye."

Stretfield grinned. "So you do not deny the other two charges."

Lyra's head hung from her shoulders. "No."

Whispers broke out in the hall, tapering off only when the judge had slammed his gavel and called order.

"That second charge no longer matters," he said carelessly. "We found your husband's hideout this morning, along with a few other Death Eaters. He told us you had nothing to do with hiding him, but he also said he kept being a Death Eater from you too."

Lyra kept her head down, blinking away tears. Surely he hadn't tried to protect her. He had to know by now Lyra had fought on the side of the light for the last war. Why would he do that?

Perhaps it was for their daughter he did it, so that she would have at least one biological parent in her life.

When it was clear Lyra would not answer, Stretfield continued, "Your husband is a sadistic man. One of the aurors nearly bled to death this morning from a dark curse Mr. Flint had used on him. You can't say you didn't know of that _vital_ part of him."

Lyra took a deep breath in. "I've always known he could be violent, even when I was a child. But… I did not know he was _that_ brutal, not until-" She quieted instantly, unsure of how to proceed.

"Until?" Stretfield pressed.

Until that night when she watched him break a man's teeth with one swing of his meaty fist and end the life of a broken woman.

"When I was pregnant with Josephina, and I-" she trailed off, staring at him.

"And?"

"I would like to intervene at this point," Granger interrupted hesitantly, a light blush gathering on her cheeks as all attention was diverted to her. "What you are asking is not pertinent to her trial. She found out about Marcus while she was pregnant, which was from January to October. You have a timeline."

Stretfield frowned when the judge complied, turning back to Lyra. "Very well then, how many months pregnant were you?"

"Eight."

That would place her very well past the takeover of the ministry, which he appeared to know. "When did you learn of him being a Death Eater?"

Lyra's brows furrowed. It would be very hard to deny the fact Lyra knew nothing about him being a Death Eater. They were man and wife, and that would mean at least knowing what was on his forearm. She had always ignored its existence, but all the same knew it was there.

No matter what she said here, they would know the truth.

"I've known since I married him."

Murmurs filled the air, which Lyra attempted to ignore. Stretfield raised a hand silencing the crowd.

"And how long have you known about You-Know-Who coming back from the dead?"

Lyra closed her eyes. "Almost as long as Harry Potter had been attempting to convince everyone of the fact."

He stared down at her, a malicious glint in his eyes. "No further questions."

Ginny had been wrong. This hadn't been protocol, this was a real trial. Ginny had tried to weigh the odds in Lyra's favor, but it was too late for that. Lyra bowed her head, accepting the way this trial would end. Perhaps it would be best to leave Josephina with the muggle couple and be treated as a muggle born when she became eleven. If she was even allowed to go to Hogwarts at all.

Hermione Granger stood, her chin jilted out stubbornly as she stepped out. "I would like to go back to your last two answers Mrs. Flint. You said, if I'm quoting you correctly, 'Almost as long as Harry Potter had been attempting to convince everyone.' Is that correct?"

Lyra whispered a yes, wondering if Hermione really was here to help her. Hammering that fact into people's head was doing Lyra no favors.

"I'd like to point out then, that Harry had been trying to convince the wizarding world of that for more than two years before people would believe him. Mrs. Flint coming forward with this information would have done nothing. If Harry Potter could not convince the wizarding world of this, what makes you think she could?"

The audience shifted in their seats, unwilling to meet the tenacious Gryffindor's gaze as she gained confidence. "Maybe what Stretfield would like to later bring up about this is that Lyra came from the Malfoy family, one of the First War's most well-known Death Eater families. Surely the world would believe it if it came from her mouth? But-" she said, pointing a finger at the spell-bound audience. "I would have to disagree. People would not even believe _Dumbledore_. Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore: Grand Sorcerer; Supreme Mugwamp; Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot; Order of Merlin, First Class; and beloved headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, one of the most esteemed wizarding schools in the world," she ticked off. "Not to mention the countless other awards he earned during his reign. If someone of such _esteem_ and _renown_ was not believed, how could a fourteen year old girl be? No, she would have been brushed off and made a fool of just like Harry Potter. There was no point in coming forward, not with the Ministry in such denial. Lyra most likely knew this herself and this is why she did not step forward."

"That cannot be proved," Stretfield hissed between clenched teeth.

"Sure it can," Hermione brushed off. "Mrs. Malfoy, is what I said true?"

"That is not proving it!" Stretfield shouted outraged. "Of course she would agree to avoid going to Azkaban. They are only words!"

Hermione leaned towards him in amusement. "Mr. Stretfield, I'm not sure how you believe a trial to work, but all of them are 'just words,' as you so eloquently stated."

The man was infuriated, but sat back down on the bench. Hermione backed away, pacing in front of Lyra.

"As for your other admittance Mrs. Flint, knowing him for a Death Eater. If every single wife of a pureblood was tried for not stepping forward with this knowledge we would have no room in Azkaban for the real law-breakers." This was a gross overstatement, but Lyra would not debate that. "This trial is not a true trial, it stems from anger and bitterness about the war. All of us have the right to feel that way, it's completely normal. We have all lost something from it." Granger quieted, thinking over what she said before stating strongly, "But what you're not seeing is Lyra Flint is a seventeen year old girl. She was barely sixteen when she was married off to Marcus Flint. Think of yourself at that age. She was clueless, and had no idea what she was getting into. Marcus Flint, he's an _animal_. Do you think anyone would go against that man to come forward with that fact? Would any of you?"

"I would have," Stretfield said stubbornly.

"No, you would not. You only say that now after your loss. Because now you know the result of the war. I can say for certain you would have stayed silent before," Granger answered softly.

Stretfield pursed his lips, crossing his arms across his chest.

Granger turned towards Lyra confidently, locking eyes with her. "Which is why, after Mrs. Flint has learned the price of this war, she is willing to be a witness in her husband's trial. We wouldn't want such a man free, now would we?"

* * *

A/N: I think after this chapter it is much more obvious the reason why I named this story 'Behind the Veil.' Not completely but it's a hint.

Guest Comments:

Guest: She can't say Colin's name because when she does she begins to think of him, and when she thinks about him she begins to fall apart and she can't afford to do that right now. It's a coping mechanism of sorts, avoiding the conflict. By avoiding saying it to herself in her head she can go back to the place she was at before, with Colin alive and out there somewhere in the world. She's going to have to accept this eventually, but for now this is the best she can do.


	61. Chapter 61

Chapter 61

* * *

A day after Lyra's trial Mary was found, a week later Romilda . Both of them were different after their months of hiding, their families were still frightened about being in their homes. The Vanes remained somewhere hidden in Europe, a place only Romilda knew the location of. It appeared they had decided to stay where they had made their new life. Their old house had too many bad memories, and Emma was still deciding whether or not she wanted to return for her fourth year.

Lyra's family was keeping their distance, and that was fine. Both of them had wounds to heal, and if Lyra had heard right her parents had also switched sides at the last moment. Harry Potter had even asked the ministry to pardon the Malfoys for a large part that her mother played in the ending of the Dark Lord, whatever that was.

The loud door knocker was banged twice and Lyra stood up to get the door. She gave them a hesitant smile, gesturing for them to come in.

"You had your baby?" Romilda whispered, eyes drawn to the wriggling child on the floor.

Lyra hurried to pick her up, attempting to force Joey to eat another piece of cereal. At least Josephina was beginning to pick up on the practice. Strangely she liked all her solid food to be moist before eating. Lyra found it disgusting but it was still progress. She supposed Josephina had been forced to adapt. Lyra hadn't been able to sneak breast milk every day into the muggles cabin. She had placed a charm that made the couple not question the never ending supply of milk for those instances she was able to get it to them.

"Oh, yes. I named her Josephina Hesper. Most of the time we call her Joey." Lyra realized belatedly who she was referring to by 'we' and paled, but thankfully none of her friends caught on. She let out a short breath of relief.

Mary wrinkled her nose in distaste. "Hesper? That's an old woman's name."

"It does happen to be," Lyra agreed with a trace of irony. "She's named after a Black born in the 1800's that had convinced her husband not to have children."

Romilda let out giggle, all of their attention drawn to her by the sudden noise. Even she appeared to be taken aback by the sound, foreign as it was at the moment. "I was surprised, is all. It's just like Lyra to name her baby after someone like that," she whispered, as if she had to have an excuse for being happy.

Mary glanced around paranoid. "Are you sure it's safe here?"

"Of course. There's protective spells laced everywhere. No one that wishes to do us harm can enter this property."

Mary sat down on the loveseat, glancing up at the high ceilings. "Only you and Josephina live here?"

Lyra agreed softly, rocking Josephina in her arms.

"How old is she?" Romilda asked, sitting next to Lyra on the floor and picking up a spare rattle. After a moment Ginny joined Mary at the couch.

"Eight months." Lyra watched as Romilda attempted to play with Joey. "Here, you can hold her."

Romilda opened up her arms, receiving her with awkward and unpracticed hands. But Romilda's smile was gratifying as she stared down at Lyra's daughter, attempting to get her attention by shaking the toy back and forth in Joey's line of vision.

The familiar POP of the house elf startled them all. Mary had taken out her wand immediately, and Romilda hand had clenched.

"Warble," Lyra began hesitant. "I thought you were going to work on lunch." She had told the house elf to do as much, hoping that it would serve as enough of a distraction. Warble didn't need to know muggleborns were in the house. She was unstable enough as it is.

"Oh, mistress. Warble is! But Warble wanted to ask what kind of sandwiches you would wish for. Warble wants mistress to stay happy, especially after losing master. Warble will do anything to keep mistress happy, that she will."

Romilda took a startled breath in at the mention of Lyra's husband, fright evident on her face.

"It doesn't matter Warble," Lyra said in a calm voice. "Any sandwiches will do, and stay upstairs afterwards."

"Of course mistress! Anything Warble can do to assist she will!" She disappeared with another POP, leaving silence in its wake.

"I'm sorry," Lyra began immediately. "If she knew you guys weren't pureblood's she would lose it."

"You have a house elf?" Mary asked faintly.

Lyra nodded, nibbling on the side of her cheek. "She's been with the family since, well, I'm not actually sure how long."

A few moments later Lyra could hear another pop in the dining room. Lyra stood up. "I suppose lunch is ready."

Romilda stared at Lyra helplessly, and Lyra realized she was afraid to stand up with Josephina. Lyra chuckled softly, picking up Joey and placing her on her hip before leading them to the dining room.

"How are you feeling about the upcoming trial?" Ginny asked, carefully avoiding her husband's name.

Lyra stopped mixing the emulsified green beans and peas meant for Josephina, blinking owlishly at Ginny. She glanced at Mary and Romilda who both were studiously staring at their food and acting as if the conversation wasn't even happening.

Lyra wasn't sure what it was about Marcus that Mary and Romilda didn't like to hear. Hopefully Marcus had never done anything to them in particular, and hoped it was just the fact that he was a Death Eater and his known reputation that startled the two. Lyra couldn't bring herself to ask them, not while everything was still raw and dreadfully new.

"Who was that girl we were with? Her name was Hannah." Lyra decided the best thing to do was change the subject. Besides, she wasn't sure what she thought about her husband anymore.

Ginny arched a brow in question. "Hannah? As in Hannah Abbott? You didn't recognize her?"

Lyra's jaw dropped in astonishment. " _That_ was Hannah Abbott?"

Last Lyra had seen of Hannah Abbott the girl had been wailing about how stupid she felt for getting a question on her Herbology test wrong. She had lacked any self-confidence, and although she did not wear pigtails every day like she used to she could occasionally be seen wearing them.

"You saw Neville too, right? Both of them changed. They really stepped up when Snape and the Carrow siblings took over Hogwarts. Neville ran DA with Harry gone, and Hannah was an assistant of sorts. Kind of what Hermione was. They really bonded this year, now that I think about it," Ginny said in deep thought, her sandwich discarded.

"Was anything you said at my trial true?" Mary asked with a piercing gaze.

Lyra hurried to give another spoonful of veggies to Joey, stalling for time. "Which part?"

"You know which."

Romilda's interest piqued. She had stopped swirling her beverage long enough to glance surreptitiously at Lyra.

"My ancestor Brutus did have a missing child, but no. It is not you. At least," Lyra amended, "It's a one in a million chance it is."

"So he really had a squib child?"

Lyra shrugged helplessly. "I'm not sure. All I know is he did not make it into adulthood, or went missing before that. You will rarely find a pureblood family tree with reasons for their children dying. It's protection of sorts, for when that one miscreant child appears," Lyra said scornfully, bitter that Joey would indeed be considered this.

Ginny watched her carefully. "One of the members in the order said that your child was special needs."

Lyra turned away, glaring at the tiled floor as Romilda let out a gasp. "Yes." She twisted back towards them. "But there's nothing wrong with her. She's fine just the way she is."

"So you're not going to get that potion for her?" Ginny asked. "My mum told me she had an uncle take it, and he was almost normal afterwards. Back when the Prewetts had money…" she trailed off thoughtfully. "He was able to lead a relatively normal life. He even moved out of his parent's house, and knew how to take care of himself."

"You would probably have to take care of Josephina your whole life. It's best to take the potion. Josephina may be alone otherwise when you pass, whenever that may be," Mary recommended.

Lyra had never thought that far ahead.

"Perhaps," Lyra said, her mind twisting with this knowledge.

* * *

A/N: One of my readers suggested doing a sequel and I was wondering if anyone thought it was a good idea. I never thought of a sequel until a review mentioned it. I'm not even sure if this story has enough of a following to create an OC character with an OC/AU family. Of course, the wizarding world has already been saved so this would be a lot less 'traumatic' and 'life threatening' than Behind the Veil... at least I would hope... I never know what my mind is going to come up with. If I did do a sequel it would most likely be from Joey's POV and her issues navigating the wizarding world with her disability. Probably boy trouble too. Tell me what you guys think and if enough people view it positively I'll start writing so that hopefully by the time this story ends I can just continue on with that one.

Guest Comments:

Guest: I had this long freaking three paragraph answer which I spent like fifteen minutes writing but it deleted when the servers went down so it never saved. I am too lazy to redo all that haha but I will say that how Marcus feels will be revealed eventually. ;)


	62. Chapter 62

A/N: Warning: There's an M rated scene near the bottom. Skip this if you do not like such things.

* * *

Chapter 62

* * *

Lyra gripped Ginny's hand tightly in her own, the band of her wedding ring cutting sharply into her skin. She relaxed slightly. The last thing she wanted right now was a reminder of her marriage.

Marcus sat strapped in the center of the room with golden chains, scowling defiantly up at his persecuter. Damon Stretfield had received the case, much like he had with Lyra. But unlike his wife, Marcus did not have Hermione Granger as a defendant. If his defendant was adequate at all Lyra would be shocked. At the moment he was picking his teeth, flicking off whatever he found onto the floor. He was disheveled and appeared to be barely out of law school, his face unlined and his hair dark and grey-less. Wire-rimmed glasses sat balanced across his nose, and his mind appeared to be anywhere but here.

It was clear the ministries' stance of Marcus Flint. No matter what happened today Marcus would be convicted. They had gotten the best for the accuser, and a careless fool for the defendant. There would be no turn-around moment like Lyra's trial had been. Marcus was condemned the moment he was found.

"Marcus Peverus Flint. You are being tried for the murder of nine known muggles, the manslaughter of thirteen known muggleborns and one half-blood, and the rape of two muggles. How do you plead?"

Lyra's throat strickened and she blinked back tears. She had known Marcus was not a good man, but she hadn't realized how bad. He had certainly worked hard to build the reputation he now had as one of the most violent of Lord Voldemort's followers, only surpassed by Fenrir Greyback and perhaps her Aunt Bellatrix.

He stared at Damon Stretfield unblinking, his lips twisting into a snarl. "What do you think?"

"Oh, I think many things _Mr. Flint_. I want to know what you have to say about it," Stretfield challenged, unperturbed by her husband's intimidation antics.

Marcus sat back against the chair, appearing for all accounts relaxed. "I think this trial will speak for itself."

"Yes, I believe it will," Strefield agreed. "I'd like to call forth a witness, Miss Anna Malone."

Lyra exhaled a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. She had thought he meant to call her up already, and Lyra was not looking forward to the reunion with her husband.

A pretty blonde with lanky hair covering her face shuffled to the bench, too timid to even pull her gaze from the floor. "Miss Malone, how are you today?"

Anna Malone took a few deep, unsteady breaths in. "I just want to get this over with," she whispered, barely discernable.

"That's very understandable. I will try to hurry this then. I know it is tough for you, and you're very brave for agreeing to testify against Mr. Flint."

Anna slowly nodded her head, still staring at the floor.

"Very well, Miss Malone. What is your connection to Mr. Flint?"

The timid girl finally brought her eyes up high enough to look over the audience, completely skipping over Marcus Flint. Her foot began to tap anxiously on the wooden floor. "I don't know his name. I never learned it, and never wanted to. That man in the chair," she trailed off, bringing a shaking hand up to push some of the hair out of her startling cornflower blue eyes. "He killed my older brother. My brother was only trying to protect me, but then that man killed him. He, um, he." Tears began falling and her eyes became panicked. "He just kept hitting and hitting him, and my brother told me to run. He tried to tell me, but I couldn't. I was frozen."

Stretfield nodded empathetically. "Yes, and what else did he do?"

She sniffled, rubbing a sleeve across her nose. "He raped me. Next to my brother's corpse. He told me to look at my brother as he did it, he didn't want to see my face. He said it didn't look enough like his wife's, unlike the other girl he raped. He told me all about her, his wife. He said we didn't deserve to look like her, his wife was the best. Of the purest blood and highest beauty, and to have that face on a muggle was revolting."

Lyra gasped loudly, the sound unheard by the enraptured audience. She clenched her fists in her skirts, unable to watch anymore. She didn't want to hear this. She had married a monster, her child's father was the uncaring man sitting in the middle of the room. It sickened her to hear all this, she wanted to leave and only come back when she must. To find out this appalling crime had stemmed because of her, Lyra didn't know what to do anymore. She felt to blame for it.

"You say there was another one before you?"

"Yes, he told me that."

"Then I believe that would make it the rape of _three_ muggles. The last one he killed after the act, only a few short weeks ago. This happened to you nearly four months ago?"

"Yes," she sniffled, nodding her head.

Damon Stretfield turned towards the crowd. "As she is a muggle, of course this memory will be purged from her mind. Although the, ah, act that was forced upon her was not of magic we will remove the memory of her rape and brother's death. She has agreed, and wishes for nothing more. She feels she will not be able to move on with her life else wise." He bowed to her, holding his hand out to walk her towards the door. "I wish only the best for you, and soon things will be better. Although we cannot fix your brother's death, we can help you with this."

Her body shook with noiseless tears as she hurried out of the courtroom, the experience clearly petrifying for her.

Marcus appeared bored, arms crossed and face at ease.

"Do you deny any of what she said? Stretfield said, disgust evident in his voice.

"I neither deny nor agree," Marcus said with a teasing grin, infuriating the muggleborn.

"You raped your victims because they looked too much like your precious wife?"

Marcus stared at him in earnest. "My wife is perfect in every way."

Lyra winced, dragging her eyes away from him. Ginny wrapped an arm around her shoulder and Lyra leaned in to hide her face from prying eyes.

"She was sixteen when she married you?"

"Yes," he said with a frown.

"And you were twenty-two?"

"Yes."

"Do you not find yourself appalling? Your wife was not even an adult. You could have waited another year at the least."

Marcus jerked his arm against the chain, stretching it. His face boiled in rage as he seethed. "That has nothing to do with you or this trial!"

"Oh, it has something to do with it," Stretfield rebutted in a pleased manner. "I'd like to call forth Lyra Flint to the witness stand."

Lyra squeezed Ginny's hand in shock at his sudden calling of her name. The whispers broke out across the room, and Stretfield motioned grandly to the witness booth. She couldn't bring herself to look at Marcus as she passed him, she wasn't brave enough.

"Mrs. Flint, it is so _wonderful_ to see you today. I'm glad to see you did not fall through with your promise."

After a moment Lyra nodded, staring at her neatly folded hands in her lap and fighting to keep the tears back.

"I'm afraid I have to ask you a few questions, and I must _insist_ you answer truthfully."

Lyra fought to find her voice, clearing her throat several times. "Yes."

Marcus' lawyer was nearly asleep by this time, his head drifting down every few seconds and then pulled back up as he fought to stay awake. If she weren't in the situation she was currently in she would have found it comical.

"Revisiting your trial, you said that you knew he was violent since you were a child. But you also skirted around the issue of exactly when you found out how violent he could be. When did you figure that out?" He appeared much too joyful about being able to ask her that. At her own trial Hermione Granger had intervened before she had been forced to answer. Lyra stared at him vacantly, unable to help glancing at Marcus. His whole demeanor had changed, and he watched her almost desperately. His eyes were drinking her in, his body shifting as close as he could get to her pinned as he was to that chair. She turned away.

"We went for a visit to Diagon Alley when I was eight months pregnant. There was an… encounter there."

"What kind of encounter?" he pressed.

"I, we were shopping. I was getting stir crazy. Marcus never let me leave the house, he was worried someone would attack me. But he was right, and they did."

"What happened?" he asked with interest, not particularly appearing worried about her.

Lyra gnawed on the side of her cheek. "Someone attempted to cast a curse on me, I'm not sure what kind. Marcus blocked it before it could hit me. It was a man and a woman. They… I'm not really sure how it happened, it all occurred so fast."

"Please do try to recall these events," Stretfield insisted.

Lyra took a deep breath in. "Marcus was able to call some Death Eaters for backup. With help he restrained the two of them, and a conversation was held between my husband and them. Marcus, he, I," she stuttered, unable to get it out. "He punched the man in the face, knocking him out. He told one of the Death Eaters to take him as a hostage. He killed the woman."

"Right in Diagon Alley?"

"Yes."

"Hmm, were there any other instances?"

"None," she said earnestly. "I mean, I saw him hit people in Hogwarts. Anyone could tell you that."

"So no other instances come to mind? Nothing he did to _you_ , for example." Stretfield pressed in disbelief.

Lyra shook her head slowly. "He always kept that stuff away from me, except that one instance."

"He was not abusive to you, or perhaps your daughter?" he asked, shock clearly written across his features.

"Never. Not once did he lay a hand on me with the intent to hurt."

"So he hurt you on accident, when he did not realize the strength of his anger," he said in triumph, believing to have found a loop hole in Lyra's statement.

"No," Lyra disagreed. "He was- He was always kind to me. The only time I worried was when his father died, but he became even more doting towards me after."

Stretfield leaned towards her, staring deeply into her eyes. "I don't believe you."

"It's the truth."

"You would lie to save your husband."

"If he was hurting me I would tell you. Don't you think I would say this now? Do you think I would want to be near a man that assaults me?"

"I'm not sure," he said, rubbing his chin. "I don't know how pureblood politics work."

Lyra let out a soft laugh at the unexpected admittance.

"Then I will explain it in this way. No, he never laid a finger on me with the aim to cause pain. I am a Malfoy, and if anything a Malfoy always tries their best to protect their family. My father would not have had me marry someone who he knew would hurt me."

"But he would allow his sixteen year old daughter to get married and become pregnant?" he asked dryly.

"He was protecting me the only way he knew how." When he only stared at her, Lyra continued, "The Dark Lord knew of my feelings towards muggleborns. He used legilimens upon me and found this out, and he made it clear to my father that I was only of use to him in the world he was creating as Marcus Flint's wife. He wanted me to create pureblood children, and once during dinner insisted that I have another after Josephina, my daughter. Well," she amended, her face thoughtful. "A Dark Lord does not insist, but command."

"How did he know you would not run away, or join the Light?"

"He knew my mind, he saw how deep my loyalty towards my family was."

His brows furrowed down forming a prominent scowl. "So you never knew anything about the rape of those three muggles and all the killings he did?"

"I knew that he was killing people," Lyra said strongly. "If anything was clear after that day it was that. But… I didn't want to acknowledge it. I knew of it, but pretended none of it happened. You can say it was cowardly all you want, but it made things easier. If I hadn't done that…" She lost her voice, unable to finish. She would have never been able to live with him. Lyra would have detested him and attempted to go into hiding. She would be dead, as the Dark Lord would not allow that to go unpunished.

After a few more questions he allowed her to take her seat next to Ginny, proceeding with the trial. She allowed herself to become lost within her thoughts. Lyra didn't want to hear anymore. Listening to this much had been tough enough. It was painful, and she wanted to go back into her world where she could pretend that Marcus really was the good man he acted like around her.

Ginny tapped her arm, pulling Lyra out of her musings. "He lost the trial," Ginny whispering, gesturing towards Marcus who was staring at Lyra desperately as he was being dragged out of the room. "His wand was broken and he's earned a life at Azkaban. Stretfield pressed for the dementor's kiss, but since dementors aren't really under the ministries' control yet Stretfield was denied.

Lyra gently pulled her arm out of Ginny's grasp, standing up and watching as the doors closed behind him ominously. "I need to go. I have to talk to him before they take him away."

Ginny pulled her closer once more. "Why? You don't- do you love him?"

"No! I, I just need to know. I want to understand why." He was so different around her. Lyra felt like she was at least owed this.

"There would be no point in all of that," Ginny murmured gently. "You'd only be torturing yourself."

"But I must."

Lyra wasn't certain if she was allowed through the door Marcus had disappeared into, but she was going to try. No one stopped her as she went through the threshold, at least not until she got to a room guarded by two aurors.

"Oi, you're not allowed back here."

Lyra lifted her chin. "I wish to see him."

The dark haired wizard leaned towards her. "Too bad princess." He pulled away, challenging Lyra to do something about it. They started at each other unblinking, a show of dominance.

"Let her in Dunn." Lyra twitched at the sudden voice, glancing down the hall where another auror sat atop a desk flipping his wand head over heal. "It will be the last time she sees him. As his wife she has this right, no matter how much of a monster he is."

Dunn grimaced, but moved to the side and gestured towards the door. "Be my guest," he said reluctantly.

Lyra stared at the door in hesitation. "Is he still chained?"

He grinned maliciously at her. "What? You're not afraid of your husband, are you? Not after that pretty little speech you gave about him never laying a finger on you?"

Lyra glared at him, shoving the door open and slamming it shut behind her. She remained tensed, her back to the room and listening to any moment. From behind her the rustling of chains across the floor could be heard. She let go of the doorknob, composing herself before turning around.

"Lyra?"

She flinched upon seeing him. Not because he appeared dangerous, but because he didn't. He had a melancholy look in his eyes as he took her in, his shoulders slumping.

"I didn't think you'd come."

Lyra pulled her gloves off, eyeing the length of chain pinned to the ground. "Me either."

His eyes darted across her, Lyra unable to keep up with them.

"What are you doing?" she asked, taking a step closer.

"Memorizing you."

"Why would you do that?"

He stopped his perusal. "Because you're my wife."

"The wife that betrayed you," she said mildly.

Marcus nodded. "I had hoped you would. At least then you would be free and Josephina kept safe."

"Why would you hope that?" Lyra truly could not understand. He knew by now that she had fought for the Light. It had been mentioned off-hand during his trial. If there was anything Marcus hated, it was a bloodtraitor. Lyra had labeled herself that the moment she picked her wand up for the other cause.

Confusion echoed across his face. "I don't understand."

"I betrayed you. I was at the Battle for Hogwarts, I fought in it."

"Were you hurt?" he interrupted.

"I, what?" This was not going the way she expected.

"Were you hurt during it?"

"Of course, not many weren't. I'm fine now though," she muttered. "Did you enjoy killing all those people?"

His eyes jumped in surprise at the sudden changing of subjects. "Yes."

"Why?"

"They were scum."

Lyra breathed deeply. "Mary was a muggleborn."

"Who?" he asked in confusion.

"Mary, my friend. The one I said was a halfblood. If you had known she was muggleborn would you have killed her?"

"Naturally."

Lyra rubbed at her face, leaning against a nearby desk for support. "And those muggles, you raped them?"

"I did."

" _Why?_ "

He appeared to struggle with an answer. "Because they were muggles. We can do what we want with them."

"But rape them?" Lyra pressed, a stray tear falling. Marcus blanched upon seeing it.

"I always knew you had a tender heart, but I did not think it went this far. Yes, I raped those muggle girls. It was my right as a pureblood, my right as a wielder of magic. Besides, they looked like you."

Lyra let out a bitter laugh, staring at the ceiling to keep the tears back. "I'm sorry to tell you this Marcus, but that girl looked _nothing_ like me."

"Sure she did. She had blonde hair and blue eyes, and she was pretty like you."

"Being pretty does not make us look alike!" she burst, about ready to curse him herself.

He frowned. "If you think I cheated on you, I did not. I never laid with a magical woman."

It was then all the pieces began to fit together, and Lyra could finally grasp what it meant to be a muggle in Marcus Flint's world. It meant having no rights, and being dumb like common cattle. It meant being there for the amusement of magical beings to do as they pleased, whether that meant killing, torture, or rape. It did not matter.

It meant not being human.

No matter how many times Lyra asked him about this he would never grasp what he had truly done; because to him a muggle really was only an animal. A dumb beast of burden.

She burst into tears, covering her face with a hand and turning her back to him. Everything made sense now, how he could be a completely different person around her but a monster to others.

"Lyra," he whispered. "Whatever I did, I'm sorry. Is it because I'm leaving? I didn't mean to, I was only fighting for a better world for us. I'm sorry I let you down."

Did being a bloodtraitor mean the same thing to her husband? Did a person get decreased worth upon switching ideals and sides?

There was only one way to find out.

"I'm crying, Marcus, because you will never understand what you've done. Do you know I'm a bloodtraitor? I see no difference between being a muggle or a witch." She didn't dare turn around.

"Lyra, you do not have to lie in front of me. I will not tell them you feel otherwise," he said softly.

Lyra wiped away her tears, turning towards him in frustration. "This is not an act! I truly feel this way! Why else would I risk myself for a muggleborn?"

He puzzled across this, attempting to work this new piece of her. "You have a soft heart," he said finally. "I knew that coming into this. I don't mind, it is why I make the major decisions."

"I _hate_ what you've done," she hissed. Yet she still could not say she hated him, not even after hearing all the monstrosities he had done.

"That is alright," he said simply. He sighed, gesturing her to come closer. "Please, let me hold you one last time. I'll never get to do it again."

She wanted to spite him, to hurt him in the slightest degree he had hurt everyone else. But Lyra was in pain too, and all she wanted was comfort. The kind only Marcus could give her.

-M RATED SCENE BEGINNING-

Her arms went around his neck, squeezing tightly as their lips molded together desperately. His hands trailed across every inch of her, twisting to lay her down on the hard, splintering table he had been sitting upon. She yanked his hair violently, biting down hard on his bottom lip. Enough to taste the coppery flavor of blood between them.

This was angry and hateful, emotional and punishing; and he allowed it to be. He goaded her on, weaving his hands tightly in her golden strands and not letting go. Not even to breath. Not to think. Not to wonder what the repercussions of this was.

Her shirt slid off, his pants unbuckled. Her back arched into him, and his nimble hands unclasped the back of her bra.

" _I hate you_ ," she spit out, bitter tears sliding down her face.

"I know," he moaned, his head lulling back.

"You're a monster." Her voice broke on the last syllable and she hiccupped. Marcus didn't allow Lyra to sit on her pain too long, pulling an unrestrained mewl from her throat. "I don't want you," she said, banging a hand on his bare chest. He pulled her closer, their foreheads touching as their rhythm slowed to love making.

"You do," he disagreed.

She let out another sob, rising her hips to join his. Their mouths molded together in a passionate kiss and she let all her thoughts go.

-M RATED SCENE END-

Afterwards she unhurriedly gathered the clothes thrown carelessly across the room. She threw her hair up in a ponytail, knowing there was no hope for it, and finished buttoning the top of her blouse. "I thought you were going to kill me," she said, unable to look at him. "When you found out about me switching sides. I was so certain of it."

Silence permeated the room, the only sound that could be heard was their unsteady breaths.

"I could never hurt you Lyra," he whispered painfully.

Lyra stared at the door, placing her hand on the knob. "When did you figure out you loved me?"

It had been obvious to Lyra by the end of this conversation. Nothing else made sense. He definitely would have killed her otherwise, but he had lost himself in her. Much like Lyra had with Colin, losing all sense and protocol.

He took a deep breath in. "A while ago."

"You never asked me why I testified against you."

"Because you're a tender heart," he answered immediately.

She frowned at the way he phrased it. "I did it to protect Josephina."

"What?"

"She's mentally disabled."

She hadn't turned around to see his reaction, but she didn't need to. Lyra had learned more of Marcus in this past hour than she had in all the years of knowing him.

"You told me yourself what you thought of special needs children. I have to protect my daughter." She became silent. "Would you have killed her after learning this?"

The room remained silent, Marcus finally coming up with an answer. "My father told me something about a sibling of his once," Marcus pondered out loud. "He said when he was younger he had a sister, but his grandfather had to kill her because of something that would have shamed the Flint name."

Lyra's hand twisted the doorknob, not yet opening it. "Is that your answer? That you would kill your daughter like your grandfather did his child." Like he had Marcus' aunt that Lyra never even realized existed.

His answer chilled her.

"I have no daughter."

* * *

A/N: I think I'm leaning towards making a spinoff book about Joey. I've created an outline that I'm pretty happy with at the moment and it will be about more than just romance now. I'm still adjusting and building it up as I'm not quite happy with it. There's some things I'm debating if I wanna add and other things I think I need to make more substantial. But I think I do have enough material to create another story and do it justice.

The tentative outline is seventeen chapters, although I'm not completely happy with it. I feel the need for more complexity with the tale, more turns and a question of 'what's next?' I want it to feel more puzzle-like, for readers to figure it out piece by piece. At this point I don't think it's at that stage, so more than likely there will be chapters added to make this happen once my brain juice decides to work. I'll post the summary of it the last chapter of this story so you guys are aware.


	63. Chapter 63

Chapter 63

* * *

Lyra had always thought the most difficult period of her life would be when she had chosen family over love, but she had been proven wrong. It wasn't such a rare occurrence anymore.

Despite Marcus telling Lyra his thoughts of mentally disabled children, Lyra somehow hoped that Marcus finding out his daughter had this disability would change his mind. Why could he still love Lyra, yet announce he would kill his daughter for something she had no control over?

Why was Lyra the exception?

For that first week every day was filled with tears. Lyra could barely gather herself for the day, appearing very unlike her normal appearance. Unkempt hair thrown in a messy bun. Baggy clothes, _muggle clothes_ , that Lyra had stolen from Ginny over the weekend because of their comfort. Lyra hadn't worn a lick of makeup since the trial. Not even during her first year has she looked this awful.

Ginny helped her a lot. She helped all three of them. Between Mary, Romilda, and herself, they were all a walking, breathing disaster. Mary had always been stubborn, that stubbornness had helped her in the end. She appeared as she always had, the only difference being the look on her face when she got that far away gaze. When Mary got stuck on memories of the war.

Romilda had been goaded into getting mind therapy by Ginny, which appeared to help some of the nervous ticks she had picked up. She had nightmares often, dreaming of the time when Lord Voldemort's followers had attacked her family. Her dad had lost a leg from a cutting curse. They had only made it out of there because of how amazing Romilda's mother was at jinxes and curses. An unexpected noise could always startle Romilda, and none of them were certain if that would ever get better. At least Emma was able to move on. She hadn't given up on the magical world, and decided to return to Hogwarts. The bickering the two sisters did seemed to be the only normalcy they had left.

A loud bang on the door startled Lyra. She nearly dropped the book in her hands from the sudden noise. She fixed her shirt to make sure it hadn't risen up, hurrying to the door in case it was Mary or Romilda in a panic. She frowned as soon as she opened it, putting her arm behind her back and feeling the weight of her wand in her pocket.

The man grinned at her. "Lyra, how absolutely _wonderful_ to see you." He helped himself into the house without waiting for her to reply. She glared at him, hesitantly closing the door further.

"Can I help you?" She couldn't even remember his name.

"Oh, yes. You certainly can. Say, how big is this house? I don't quite remember."

She shifted to the side, her fingers loosely wrapped around her wand. "Big enough."

He snorted, turning around and surveying her defensive stance. "Oh we're family, don't be so coquettish."

"I have every right to be, now what do you want?"

"Oh Lyra, Lyra," he tutted, staring up at the ceiling with a measured gaze. "Is that house elf still here? Warble? Wobble?"

"Yes," she answered. "Warble is still here."

He clapped his hands together. "Excellent! Excellent, it will be nice to have her around."

"I'm not catching your drift."

He grinned, pleased with himself. "Why, did you not know?" he asked rhetorically. "This house is mine now. It was forfeited to me upon your husband's life sentence." She blinked at him in incomprehension, her fingers tightening on her wand.

"Get out."

"I can't kick you out, of course," he continued unhindered. "You still have the right to live here as Marcus' wife, I will not refute that. But this house, the family business, it's all mine."

"Get out of my house!" she screeched wildly, bringing her wand to eye level. "Get out!"

"Such emotional outburst, it's improper of a woman of your caliber. Although it does seem like you've let yourself go," he said distastefully.

"I won't say it again! This house is my daughter's, everything is! Get out you _fiend_ ," she commanded.

He became serious, leveling his gaze at hers. "Your daughter gets nothing. Wizarding law has commanded it."

Her grip on her wand slacked. "What do you mean?"

His hands slipped into his pockets as he paced the floor. "From what I hear your daughter is, uh, mentally handicapped. A person with a disability such as that is left without the ability to inherit."

"You're lying."

"You can look into this yourself, I'm sure you will. I have a few loose ends to tie up in the meantime, I will be back in a few weeks to claim what is rightfully mine."

"Go!"

Josephina's cry pulled her attention to the hall. As the sound rose she fought with herself, divided between watching this man and racing to make sure her daughter was okay.

Her motherly instincts won out and she hurried to get her Joey, coming back out as fast as she could.

He was already gone, the front door wide open and creaking in the wind.

After a moment of disbelief had passed Lyra immediately sent an owl to Ginny, asking her about the law and some of its stipulations. Nearly a day later Lyra received a message back, telling her to floo to The Burrow. For a second Lyra thought about not going. Being surrounded by so many Weasleys would make her nervous, and she wasn't really sure what they thought of her.

But that didn't matter when compared to her daughter's future, so without further hesitation she threw the floo powder into the fireplace.

She was quick to orient herself, Josephina letting out a dissatisfied cry at being twisted about by Lyra's means of transportation. Lyra rocked her gently in her arms, placing a tender kiss upon her forehead.

"Lyra!" a familiar voice called out. "Good, you're here."

Ginny walked into the living room, wiping her hands upon an apron laced around her waist. Ginny gave Lyra a hug, smiling down at Joey and tugging Lyra into the kitchen.

Lyra paused at the threshold, taking in the three women in the room. Mrs. Weasley was racing about to make lunch, barking out orders to a frazzled Hermione Granger.

"Oh dear," Mrs. Weasley said upon seeing her. "Well come here, let me have a look at you." She tutted at Lyra's skinny figure, startling Lyra as the older woman gave her a sudden embrace. "I've always loved babies, they're so sweet." She gave Ginny a reprimanding stare. "And then they become adults." She placed her hands on her hips, watching her only daughter with faint amusement.

"I learned from the best," Ginny teased, making her mother scoff.

"The cheek on this one," Mrs. Weasley laughed. "Here, take these. Josephina will be fine." A pair of wooden spoons were handed to her and Lyra stared at them clueless.

"Uh, mum? You might not want to do that. No offense to you Lyra, but your cooking is rubbish."

Lyra shrugged uncaring. "That's why the house elf does it all." Regardless, Lyra placed Josephina near the wall, brushing the blanket off beneath Joey and putting her favorite stuffed animal, a pink hippogriff, in her chubby hands. "With any luck I can handle mixing."

Ginny watched her dubiously, but did not argue. Once they saw Lyra could handle at least that much, they all went back to their previous activities.

"Harry and Ron are upstairs," Ginny said with warning in her voice. "George won't go back to his flat, it reminds him too much of Fred." Sadness filled her eyes, and she quickly blinked it away.

"I'm not sure what they're all up to, but I'm certain I don't want to know," Hermione said with obvious disapproval, shaking a bit of her frizzy curls that were falling out of her bun into her face. Hermione turned to Lyra. "I hear you've been having a bit of family trouble."

"Yes, I am." If anyone would have the answer to Lyra's plight it would be Hermione. "Marcus' uncle came the other day and said everything was his by wizarding law, that handicapped children have no rights. Is that true?"

Hermione slowed her kneading, staring thoughtfully at the wall. "I ran across that when I was looking stuff up about your trial. It is true. Honestly, in some ways the wizarding world is behind in human rights compared to muggles." When the brown haired girl noticed Lyra's inquisitive look she continued, "In most countries muggles have already fought for rights of people who are unable to have a voice and are ignored. I'm hoping with whatever, er, _prestige_ , I have gained for helping defeat Voldemort I can use to put pressure on house elf, werewolf, and legislation on mentally disabled people."

Lyra blushed at the scathing look Hermione sent to her, knowing it was about her having a house elf. "Are you saying those three are on the same level as far as rights?"

"Just about."

"How do I fix that? I can't-" Lyra's voice broke off. She pulled her sleeve across her face, wiping away the stray tears. "He's a dangerous man. I can't have my daughter near him. Marcus told me that he would have killed Josephina if he had known she was handicapped. I know that man would do the same. That glint in his eye." Lyra quieted. "He scares me."

"Flint said he would kill his own daughter?" Ginny asked incredulously.

Lyra shook her head anxiously. "Yes, he gave me some euphemism about how his aunt was the same way and his grandfather had killed his aunt. I can't go back to the Malfoy Manor. They've been keeping their distance with me. I-I don't think they want me around." Lyra swallowed thickly. "This is all I have. It will all belong to him. I can't let him take it, can't allow him to have power over my daughter's life."

"You could always go to court and have them try to give everything to you," Mrs. Weasley suggested solemnly.

"That takes too long," Hermione interrupted. "It would be more than a year of waiting, and during that time," Hermione trailed off, unable to voice the rest of her sentence.

"If worse come to worse you can always stay here dearie, any friend of Ginny's is welcome," Mrs. Weasley said warmly.

Lyra stared at the red headed woman, speechless. She had never suspected such an offer from the matriarch, especially with her family's reputation and it being the first time they had met. "I shouldn't," Lyra whispered.

"Nonsense, you're welcome here for as long as you need to stay."

Lyra bit her lip, attempting to hold back anymore tears from falling. "You're so kind."

"Oh nonsense," Mrs. Weasley brushed off. "I'm just doing what any good woman would in this position."

"Thank you so much. I'll try to get a job and-"

"Don't worry about that. Your baby is still young, and special needs at that. She is going to need more attention than most babies, and take a lot more effort on your part."

Hermione cleared her throat. "I just thought of something. There's a potion that would help correct Josephina's disability. I hear it's painful, but if you wish to do this you must act swiftly before you are cut off from whatever money you may have. You would secure her future doing this, and it may be possible for Josephina to one day have a life of her own."

Lyra stiffened. She had never been told that the potion was painful, and Joey would need two potions if that healer had been right. She nibbled on the side of her cheek in thought. "Perhaps I should set up an appointment to see them." Not that Lyra would be welcomed after her last visit, threatening the lives of two health officials as she did. But she had been terrified for her daughter's life, she did what she had to in order to keep Josephina safe.

Just like she would do now.

"If that potion really works do you plan on getting a divorce from Flint? Ginny probed.

Honestly that thought had never occurred to her. "Purebloods don't get divorces."

"But you're not a traditional pureblood anymore," Ginny countered.

She blinked vacantly, realizing her friend was right. She was no longer bound by ancient decorum. She was free, able to do anything she liked. The only thing in Lyra's way was Lyra herself.

"I still don't understand why you were betrothed in the first place. You said during the trial it was to keep you safe, but I don't understand," Ginny pressed.

Lyra took a deep, relaxing breath in. "The Dark Lord was at a Christmas party one year. If I had never ran into him I would have never been forced to marry so young, but I did… and he read my mind. He knew all about my secrets. That it wasn't a farce being friends with you, that I was in love with a muggleborn and had ideals similar to the light. The Dark Lord pressed for marriage and my father had to react. At first I thought it was my father solely making this decision," Lyra admitted. "I was very angry at him, I had felt so betrayed. He was supposed to protect me, yet there he was selling me off before I was even of age. I should have known better."

She shifted, glancing over at her audience. "I believe it was my father's idea to get me pregnant so young, just so that the Dark Lord would leave me alone once and for all. He did for the most part, only confronting me when I had gone to Mary's trial and set her free."

"Did he hurt you for that?" Ginny whispered.

Lyra shook her head. "I was heavily pregnant at the time. I think he cared too much about magical pureblood children to hurt me. He did give me a warning though."

"How do betrothals even work?" Hermione asked in her natural inquisitive manner. "I've tried reading about them but everything I find is from a hundred years ago, stating it was for land and money."

"It started out that way," Lyra admitted. "But like you said, that was the reason before these past few decades. Now it's about blood and connections, and getting backing from another magical pureblood family."

The food appeared for all means to be finished by now. Mrs. Weasley was pulling the trays of food from the oven, telling Ginny to gather up all the boys. Lyra's stomach lurched as she hurried to make herself busy, avoiding any of the new company heading into the room. By all the pounding on the stairs Lyra could tell they were coming down.

"Hey mum," a familiar voice called out. "It smells amazing."

"Yes, Mrs. Weasley. You've really outdone yourself," Potter added.

Mrs. Weasley was obviously charmed, a pinch of color on her cheeks. "Oh, how many times have I told you to call me Molly," she insisted. Harry gave a helpless shrug in return, noticing their odd visitor that for all appearances was enraptured by the pumpkin pie.

"Oi, what are you doing here?" When the matriarch replied to Ronald with a firm swat on the shoulder he grimaced. "Er, not that there's a problem with that."

George only offered a tired smile. All could tell Fred's death had hit him the hardest. Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes had yet to open their doors, despite most of the other shops in Diagon Alley doing so.

"Lyra is our guest Ronald," the older woman reprimanded.

"Sorry mum." He was too distracted with filling his plate to say much more.

Lyra carefully sat next to Ginny, rocking Josephina who had fallen asleep earlier on her square of cloth. Usually Lyra would wake her for meal times, but she would let Joey be for the time being. Lyra didn't relish breast feeding in front of them, and Josephina wouldn't eat much solid food yet. Only when forced. Her little girl enjoyed playing with it and smearing the left overs on walls more than anything.

"How old is she?" Harry asked curiously.

"Almost nine months," Lyra replied, keeping one hand on her daughters head and the other to feed herself. Josephina always slept better when she heard her mother's heartbeat.

"Teddy is three months, my godson." Lyra nodded politely, and Potter appeared confused. "He's Tonks and Remus's son. Teddy and Josephina are cousins."

Her spoon stopped midway to her mouth and she stared at him wide eyed. He smiled slightly, beginning to eat.

"Her nickname is Joey," Lyra said finally bringing the spoon to her mouth.

He gave another one of those brief smiles. "You should bring Joey over to Andromeda's. I'm sure they would both like someone to play with. Although Teddy isn't much for doing anything yet."

Lyra grinned. "I will."

With all the commotion Lyra had somehow forgotten about her Aunt Andromeda. Her aunt had said Lyra was always welcome, and she was certain she could take her aunt at her word. Knowing of Teddy was a bonus. An extremely wonderful one. Hopefully Joey and Teddy wouldn't be mean to each other and get along, unlike her and Draco.

"Lyra, you're eating fudge," Ginny pronounced sharply.

Lyra paused, closing her mouth before taking another bite. "It looked so good," she muttered embarrassed.

"But you don't even like chocolate! I've never seen you eat it in all the years I've known you!"

Lyra blinked in shock, realized Ginny was correct. Lyra had things like hot chocolate and other less chocolatey foods, but never straight chocolate. She usually avoided the candy altogether.

"I just wanted it, is all," Lyra shrugged helplessly, placing the rest of the chocolatey goodness in her mouth.

Ginny remained gob smacked, eyes filled with disbelief. But then she frowned, her gaze becoming assessing.

"I hear you were with Kingsley when, you know, everything went down." Ronald attempted to wipe away some of the residual food around his mouth, missing a few spots. How Hermione Granger was attracted to him Lyra had no clue.

Lyra shifted, noticing the whole table had quieted and were waiting for her response. She cleared her throat. "I-yes. We were trying to take out some of the demeantors before they attacked Hogwarts, but Professor Lupin was still weak from the full moon. He didn't last very long, and Tonks faltered when that happened."

Lyra didn't think she should tell them more than that. It was obvious to her that the group had been close with the two, and telling them that Tonks had her soul ripped out would help no one. She wasn't certain who had found the two, but whoever it was they hadn't shared how they found Tonks.

After a moment of brief silence George said in a voice thick with disuse, "Kingsley said you did your first full patronus up there. He said you saved his life with it."

Lyra blushed, the color creeping down to her neck at the unjustified compliment. It made her feel uncomfortable. Kingsley saved her life just as much as Lyra had saved his. Matter of fact, she would have died if she had been alone up there, so it was really Lyra who should be saying that. "It was an egret," she offered.

"Hmmm," Hermione said thoughtfully. "An egret is an animal of balance."

Lyra's brows rose. It seemed fitting for it to be that. The last stand had finally placed her on equal ground, at a place where she could live with herself and not hate everything she had done.

* * *

A/N: I've now figured out my outline for Joey's story and am mildly satisfied with it. At this point I'm assuming it will be 20-21 chapters, not so long a journey as this story. I've got a working title but I'm not sure if it will stay. The rest of the info will be given on the last chapter of this story.

If anyone is interested in betaing my new story about Lyra message me or send me a review about it. I would want one primarily for grammar issues, although welcomes any other input they would have to offer~

Guest Comments:

Guest: You have no clue how much joy your review gave me! I think it was really hard to peg Marcus' character because the only view we have of him is from Lyra who wants to live in a fairy tale land where she has a good husband and the world isn't in utter chaos with a mad man attempting to run it. Because if she acknowledged all of that it would change _everything_. She wouldn't be able to sit there and be pretty and be a perfect pureblood wife. She would have to step up, she would have to take a chance with not only her life but Joey's and perhaps her family's. For her, she's always loved her family, much more than her morals or however she feels about a situation.

So she pretends. It's the only thing she can do.

I don't think she realized he was raping people either, deep down she knew about the killing. But not the rapes. As for Stretfield, he used anything he could to his advantage. It would not help him to acknowledge Lyra's age during her trial, but it would during Flint's. He really does not care for her. He can only view her as a monster, just about equal to the people who killed his family. There are no grey areas for him, only good and evil. (I laughed too hard at the niggles comment.)

You probably do not want to know what's going on in Marcus' mind. I personally avoid it, as he's a very twisted human being. The smut scene was more about her being so angry, about wanted to hurt him in just some way. To cause him pain like he did for everyone else. She's not really rational at this point, because if she was she would have walked right back out of that room without looking back. She was just, plain angry. Furious. One thousand levels of livid. The whole ka-bang.

I thought for certain people would guess he loved her, but then the readers might not have understood him like I did. At least not till this pivotal moment. It just seemed so clear to Lyra, how it all added up.

I see I have left you very frustrated haha but now the worst parts in the story have passed and from here it's healing and learning to cope with everything that's happened. Plus, there's a spin off now! Which I think is much brighter, and _much_ shorter, than this story. There's no horrible psychopath in that one, or forced marriages. Lyra did mean it when she said any child she ever had would have a choice. You'll be seeing Lyra about fifteen years from now, in the eyes of her daughter and see how everything has turned out.


	64. Chapter 64

Chapter 64

* * *

Things calmed down after dinner was finished and the dishes taken care of.

"I'm sorry for forcing your hand during the trial. I just, I wasn't certain if they would still let you free. It was the last thing I could think of, telling them that you would go against your husband at his hearing. They didn't really want you, they wanted him," Hermione voiced uncertainly.

Lyra tilted her head to the side in thought. "It doesn't matter. I would have done it anyways."

Her eyes widened. "Would you?"

Lyra shifted towards the fire, rocking Josephina as she gnawed on a rectangular biscuit. Joey appeared to take a strange pleasure from drooling over the toughened, sugary treat. "He couldn't be allowed to be set free," Lyra offered.

Granger still appeared surprised. Ronald Weasley shifted awkwardly. "Er, I'm gonna go check on George. Sometimes he needs…" he trailed off hesitantly. "Yeah," he finished, taking the stairs by two's.

Potter's emerald eyes glinted from behind his glasses. He began unceremoniously. "For a while I thought you hated me. I thought the next time you saw me you would at the least try to hurt me."

Lyra continued to stare at the fire dancing in her vision, licking its way up the brick covered chimney. "I won't deny the thought crossed my mind." She glanced at him, noticing he was squinting at her.

"What changed?"

Lyra chuckled dryly. "You're the savior of the wizarding world and you still do not know?" He remained silent. Lyra continued, "You saved my life, my family. I don't want to know the world we would have had without you in it."

He shifted uncomfortable. "It wasn't just me," he muttered uneasily. "It was a lot of people. I couldn't have done it without everyone's help." And now he was back to being a normal eighteen year old, awkward and knobby kneed. That steady strength had fled and in its place inquietude and distress. It framed the fact that despite the whole world owing him their lives, he was just a boy. A boy who did not even realize what he had accomplished.

"Before my husband was jailed I spoke with him," Lyra articulated with an unnatural stillness. "I told him that Josephina was mentally handicapped, and do you want to know what he said?"

"What?" he whispered, still unable to pull his eyes from the portrait above the fireplace.

"He said he would kill her." She did not say that for shock value, but to get him to understand what he had truly done. Hermione took a deep gasp in, Potter's vision centering on Lyra's again. "You saved us from a world like that. A world where it's okay to murder people in cold blood because they have no magical blood. Where it's okay to rape young girls because you feel like you're stronger. Where it's okay to torture a person to the recesses of their mind where they'll never come back, because that's the only safe place from them. _You_ saved us. You had help, yes, but without you none of this would have been possible."

Josephina would be dead, and Lyra would have been stuck with the person that murdered her daughter for a husband. Or Lyra and her daughter would have been hunted like animals until they were found. Who knew what the consequence of that would have been. If the Dark Lord had thought she would continue to birth handicapped children….

And that was only Lyra's plight, what had happened to her personally. Every single soul in this room had lost someone, had been through something they never should have been put through because of the war.

"You should be a public speaker," he said with a nervous laugh, fiddling with a stray thread on his faded red shirt. Pink more than anything. There had once been words on it, but time and a great deal of washes had left it unreadable. "Were you saved?" he said suddenly, his voice serious.

Lyra bit down on the side of her cheek. "My daughter was saved, for that I'll be forever grateful."

"But were _you_ saved?" he pressed.

Lyra didn't want to answer that question. If she thought about it she'd realized how much she ached, how much hurt she truly felt. She couldn't be weak. She had a daughter that needed her. Lyra was a single mother, and single mothers had to be strong to make it.

"I heard that you were dating Colin," Potter offered.

"We never dated," she corrected absentmindedly. No, they had never agreed to that.

"But you were with him."

Her lips pursed unhappily. "What is the point in asking that?"

"Because I want to know if I saved _you_."

Lyra continued to hold a tight rein on her emotions, refusing to be weak. Refusing to cry tears that wouldn't change anything. "You saved me from being utterly broken." Losing Josephina would have been something she was not equipped to deal with, not after Colin was taken from her also. There would have been no point in living if Lyra had lost everything. "I'll be okay one day. Josephina makes me better."

He didn't appear to be very convinced.

"My child will be raised with love and kindness. She will be blessed with a choice, and being able to have a voice. That is the world I fought for."

"Did you love your husband?" Hermione asked, all curiosity. Lyra could tell the muggleborn would not hold it against Lyra if she had.

"No," she said certainly.

"You're positive?"

Lyra frowned, lost in thought. "I loved Colin. Even when I wasn't willing to admit it I did. I felt nothing close to those affections for my husband."

"Just because you did not love him like you loved Colin does not mean you do not love your husband," Hermione pointed out.

This assessment troubled Lyra. She didn't want to hear that. She didn't want to love someone who could be such a monster.

So Lyra ignored Hermione. It was the only thing to do.

"You really were forced to marry Flint?" Potter probed.

Lyra smiled grimly. "Not in the way you're imagining, I'm sure. I agreed to it, but…."

"But you didn't want it," he finished.

"He always said he would never hurt me. But after the Dark Lord took over, after my husband began gaining rank, I started to fear him. Sometimes he could have such horrible rages," she whispered. She shifted slightly towards the duo. "You know, I really did want to kill you after hurting Draco. I was quite the enraged witch."

He gave her a guilty expression. "I didn't mean to do that. I didn't know what the spell was for, I was only told it was for enemies."

Lyra snorted, shaking her head with an eye roll. It was something she was taught never to do, but Lyra found she no longer cared about what was considered _proper_ for a lady.

Ginny clunked down the stairs, plopping down next to Lyra hard enough to have Lyra bouncing off the seat. "I just ended up volunteering to run the joke shop until George gets back on his feet. I haven't the faintest idea on how to do it. You'll help me Hermione, won't you?"

"Why do you think _I'll_ be good at it?" Hermione muttered.

Ginny gave her an unamused look. "Mione, you're good at _everything_."

The two became embroiled in a staring contest, which Ginny appeared to win based on the ruffled appearance of Granger. "The fact that he asked me is a good sign. If he didn't plan on working the shop anytime soon he would have never brought it up." Ginny turned to Lyra. "Speaking of businesses, when do you plan on opening the betting ring again? Or do you plan on selling it?"

"I'm keeping it." That much Lyra was certain of. It would be going to one of her children. It was their right, and Lyra would not take that away from them just because she was clueless and found it difficult. "I'll be opening it soon. I'm sure I'll figure it out."

Draco wouldn't have an issue suddenly acquiring a betting ring. He had been trained to work a business since they were small. Lyra, on the other hand, had no such experience. Her father had always assumed she would never end up in this position. Lyra herself assumed it. Hopefully it wasn't too difficult. Lyra could be stubborn when she wanted to be, she at least had that going for her.

* * *

Lyra shot straight up in bed, racing to the bathroom where she got sick in the toilet. She took in a deep breath of air when she finished, wiping her mouth with a piece of toilet paper. Her stomach lurched again, but she managed to keep it down. She laid her head against the toilet bowl, tired.

It was the early hours of the morning, that much was clear based on the scant amount of light filtering through her blinds. She groaned, rubbing her forehead. She couldn't get sick, not with Josephina. Lyra had to take care of her and be a good mother.

But she didn't want Josephina to get sick either.

She hurried over to her desk and penned a letter, opening the window and whistling for her owl. He appeared almost immediately, cooing as he brought his head down for her to pet. She indulged him, tying the letter to his foot and watched as he scattered off into the early morning's rays.

It would probably take a few hours for Ginny to receive it. Until then she would have to manage. Lyra only went to her daughter when she began to fuss. Lyra handed her a sippy cup filled with juice. It appeared Joey was too hungry to voice her complaint because she drank it anyways, with minimal help from Lyra.

"Come on," Lyra whispered, making sure not to breath on her. She padded down to the first floor and placed Josephina in the high chair, climbing on top of the counter with annoyance when she realized she could not reach the cereal. "I have way too much junk in these cupboards," she grumbled to herself. She had never gone through the cabinets when Marcus had been jailed. He enjoyed many sweets that Lyra herself did not eat. Perhaps once they were cleaned out the cereal would not have to be shoved all the way to the top.

She barely made it to the sink in time. She ran a hand through her straggly hair, frowning as she realized she was still in her pajamas. Her whole morning routine had been messed up because of this. She rinsed her mouth out with tap water, swirling it and then spitting into the sink. After a moment of staring at the disgusting mess she had made Lyra cleaned it up. Josephina had been amusing herself by banging her fist on the high chair and watching the cereal fall to the ground. At least now she actually ate some of the food too.

The fireplace roared to life in the living room. Lyra threw her hair up in a ponytail embarrassed to be caught looking this way. "Lyra?" Ginny called out. "Are you okay?"

"I'm in here!"

Lyra began tidying up the kitchen, rearranging the sugar, flour, and salt jars and wiping down the counters. She hadn't expected the owl to be that quick. It had only been an hour since she had sent the letter.

"Stop fidgeting and let me look at you," Ginny grumbled, grabbing her shoulder and twisting her around. Ginny's lips were a thin line as she viewed Lyra, touching her forehead. "Well you don't have a fever. Is it a stomach bug?"

"I guess," Lyra answered, just as clueless.

"You look miserable."

Lyra rubbed at her forehead tiredly. "I feel miserable."

Ginny walked over to the fussing Josephina, wiping off her face and picking her up. Ginny whistled when she caught sight of the floor. "I see your daughter loves making messes."

"She lives for them," Lyra grumbled.

Ginny laughed, picking up Josephina and heading towards the stairs. Lyra trailed silently behind her. "Fleur is pregnant," Ginny mentioned. "It's been taking everyone's mind off of… _things_."

"You'll be an aunt," Lyra grinned, her stomach beginning to settle.

"That baby will be spoiled rotten. Mum hasn't stopped preparing since she found out, even though Fleur is only two months into her pregnancy."

"My mother was the same way, although allowed me to procrastinate much longer. Mother bought just about everything in here."

Ginny flinched, gagging once she revealed Josephina's diaper. "Lyra, how do you deal with this? For Merlin's sake it's going up her back! This _cannot_ be normal!"

Lyra took pleasure in opening Ginny's mind to the world of babies. "Oh, that's normal. Expect it to happen with your children too."

"That's disgusting," Ginny grimaced. "She won't pee on me, will she?"

"She might," Lyra shrugged. "There's always the possibility of that."

"I think," Ginny began in a halted tone, rushing to finish changing Joey. "That when Fleur and Bill have the baby I'll leave things like this to mum and Fleur. Bill can deal with it too. All I know is I'm not doing something like this again until I absolutely have to."

"That is always a good plan," Lyra agreed.

She could tell Ginny was watching Lyra with her peripherals. "Do you still feel sick?"

"I don't think so," Lyra muttered, rubbing at her belly.

"Fleur has been getting morning sickness for the past week. It's how she figured out she was pregnant."

"Hmm," Lyra muttered, leaning against the wall.

"There's always the strange cravings too. Fleur likes to eat pickles and frosting together. She doesn't even bother to eat the cake, just pulls the toppings off of it."

Lyra's nose wrinkled in distaste. "That's disgusting. I'm glad I never had any cravings with Josephina."

Ginny finished dressing Josephina, sitting down on the ground facing Lyra with Josephina in her lap. "Not all cravings are gross though, we just hear about those the most because they're the strangest."

Lyra's brows furrowed in confusion. "Okay?"

"Fleur's morning sickness stops by about twelve." She turned to look at the clock. "It's 11:30 now."

Lyra went to open her mouth, but then paused. Really taking in what Ginny had been saying. "No," Lyra whispered in disbelief.

"I could be wrong, but that's what I'm thinking."

"No," Lyra repeated, this time much stronger. "That's not possible. Mother, Mother said…" she trailed off, unable to finish her sentence. If this was another one of her mother's schemes she may just lose it. "No, I never had any of that with Josephina. I didn't even know until going to Pomfrey!"

"Not all pregnancies are the same."

Lyra clutched at her hair, pulling the strands. "You're wrong."

"I hope not," Ginny said carelessly.

"I- what do you mean you hope not!" Lyra screeched, startling Joey into tears. Lyra hurried to take her from Ginny, rocking her in her arms.

"If you're pregnant then that means that uncle of Marcus' cannot take the house or anything else. If your baby is normal you don't _have_ to give Joey that potion, you can make a decision without pressure and pick what is best for her."

Lyra's lip trembled, her eyes filling with unshed tears. "I can't handle another child. Ginny, I'm alone. I have to run this house, make sure that Warble isn't losing it like usual. My family still refuses to speak with me. I need to get the business running again and take care of Josephina! Ginny, I don't have _time_ for another child."

Ginny gave a sheepish shrug. "I'll help you whenever I can, and you know my mum loves babies. She would love nothing more than to help take care of Josephina. She's got more than enough experience for it."

Lyra took a shaky breath in, steadying herself. Lyra somehow always screwed herself over. She shouldn't have trusted her mother when she said it wasn't possible to get pregnant while breast feeding. Sure, Joey didn't drink as much breast milk as she used to, but her daughter was still drinking it!

She realized it must have been after the trial she had gotten pregnant, another one of her stupid choices. But she had been so angry and lonely and hurt, she had just needed _something_.

She had slept with him because she was broken too. In a different way than Marcus, but broken all the same.

Her hand trailed to her belly, feeling as if she had been kicked in the stomach. She would manage, she had to.

* * *

A/N: It was a year ago that I began posting this story. I can't believe it's been that long, and there's still eight chapters to post! I wanted to thank everyone who has reviewed, followed, and favorited this story! It's because of you guys that I continued to write. I especially was to give a shout out to Allie and KyuubiNoPuma who have been there since the beginning and pinkgurl10, dutchgirl, and barby03 who have reviewed consistently. Thank you all for the support!

On a side note I've been working on my original story a lot lately. The spin-off will still be posted but now my priority is my original fiction. So far I've written up to chapter four for the spin-off. There's a poll on my profile about what the spin-off should be titled. I've been struggling with it for some reason.

Guest Comments:

Allie: It's hard to see what Marcus was like until everything was revealed because Lyra didn't really want to know. Thank you for reviewing. :)


	65. Chapter 65

Chapter 65

* * *

Lyra had been grim faced as the healer revealed that Ginny's assumption had been true. There were pluses and minuses to this, like Lyra was sure all pregnancies had. It was still too early to figure out the sex, which Lyra didn't care too much about. She was much more preoccupied with Josephina and re-opening the betting ring. It had been disgustingly filthy when she had visited. Lyra had put Warble to work cleaning it, and the house elf was doing an amazing job. She had met with the highest level manager also, a shifty eyed man in his forties that had seen better days. All he appeared to care about was opening the business. The past few months had been difficult, and he had a family too. A wife and young son.

She told him within a month everything would be up and running again, which appeared to calm him. She told him to spread the news to the other employees if they wished to come back. Lyra would meet with them all before the re-opening. She wanted to know what kind of people she was working with. Considering this was in Knockturn Alley, Lyra didn't hold out much hope.

Regardless of if she had been pregnant or not, Lyra had planned on getting Josephina the potion. While her daughter was young, preferably, so that she did not remember any of the pain it brought her. Lyra couldn't help but feel guilty when she found out the healer she had threatened had gone on an early retirement. She wasn't sure what happened to the matron, she couldn't bring herself to ask.

"Have you been briefed at all about this potion?" Healer Wilson asked. He was a young healer that was new to the team, grim faced but confident. "I'll be honest, I've only administered this potion once and it wasn't pretty. That child had been lucky and only needed one, but your young Josephina will need two. Along with some extra care."

Lyra nodded, her throat becoming dry. "After the potion is given to her she will have a few hours of surveillance, and then she can go home. She will not want to eat or do much of anything for the next twenty-four hours. She will sleep and be lethargic."

He suddenly clapped in front of Josephina's face causing her daughter to jump and whine, tugging at Lyra's shirt and staring up at her mother's face for assurance.

"Slow reflexes are normal for a handicapped child." That had been one of the things that had made Lyra worry in the beginning, what had shown her something was different with her little girl. "After the first potion she will be much better. Some children in the mild ranges are able to have normal lives, although nowhere near close to their peers in development." His eyes shifted to Lyra's. "It's your choice to proceed with the second potion, no one would fault you for changing your mind. It's difficult to knowingly hurt your child, even if you know it is for the best. Many parents do not go through with all of them, not after seeing what the potion does to them. It's for this reason we do not allow parents in the room while we administer it. We must finish the procedure, or else your child will be worse off than before. Do you understand?"

After a moment Lyra nodded, clenching her fists. "Will I be able to be nearby?" she whispered.

"We do not advise it, but we allow it. Rest assured you will not be allowed in that room along with the other healers treating your child."

"Will there be any outer appearances of the potion?" Lyra asked softly.

"No, nothing you will visibly be able to see. No marks on her skin or loss of hair. Nothing like that." He stood up, clapping his hands together. "Are you ready Mrs. Flint?"

"Can't you put her to sleep for this?" Lyra scrambled for a way for this to be less painful for Josephina.

The healer shook his head empathetically. "Not for this procedure."

Lyra followed him out the room, her arms that were wrapped around Josephina shaking.

"We try to make this as quickly as possible. I think my team has it down to about five minutes. The healer before me had it down to about three but," he shrugged. "I'm sure I'll get it to that one day. I don't have much experience at this point." Which was her fault, as she had scared the last healer so badly he retired early.

A woman with a mask covering her mouth stepped out of the connecting room, gesturing with her hands to hand over Josephina. Lyra brought her daughter eye level with her, placing a kiss on her forehead. "She'll be better?"

The woman nodded. "This will only improve her life."

Lyra bit down on the side of her cheek, running a hand through Joey's straggly, carob colored hair.

"We'll take care of her, do it as quick as possible," the woman promised.

Lyra clenched, handing over her daughter. "It will be quick?"

"As fast as we can manage."

Lyra turned her back on them, trying to ignore Josephina as she fussed to go back to her mother. Josephina rarely left Lyra's sight, and did not often meet strangers. There weren't many times where Josephina had been thrust upon strangers. Matter of fact, this had never happened before. This was a new experience for Joey.

As soon as the door shut it cut off the sounds of Josephina's gut wrenching whimpers, ending Lyra's torment. She assumed the room was sound proof, as she could not even hear the slightest of movements in there. She sat down on the chair, groaning as she rubbed her face. This was for the best. Josephina would have a better future, and the Wizarding World would not try to strip Josephina of things that should be rightfully hers.

Lyra's hair raised on the back of her neck, becoming breathless as a matron hurried through the door. The sounds of Josephina's ear-piercing screams practically stabbed at Lyra. The matron gave Lyra a pitying look, murmuring, "The procedure went well. They're almost through."

"I want to see her," Lyra whispered, eyes panicked. She had eyes only for the door that sat blocked by the woman. "Let me go to her. She needs me. She's crying."

The woman grimaced. "I'm afraid that's not allowed. Not until the procedure is finished. It should be done in another minute or so."

Lyra swallowed, her throat feeling parched. "I'm her mother." She clenched her hands into fists to stop the trembling. The action did not do much.

The witch remained resolute, standing in front of the door until a resounding knock hammered against it. She glanced at Lyra, opening it and allowing the rest of the medical staff through.

"It went well," the healer announced. "She-"

Lyra did not stick around to hear what he had to say. Her mind was on her daughter, who was lying quietly on the table deathly pale. She rubbed her daughter's hand, hesitant to even touch her. "This is normal?" She twisted back to look at the healer who was still standing in the doorway.

"It is." He hesitated. "If you need anything we're all here." The door creaked shut behind him, leaving Lyra with a sleepy and energy-deprived Josephina. Lyra rubbed Joey's cheek. She only stared straight forward with lowered lids, occasionally blinking to prove life still beat in her.

Lyra pulled a chair over, sitting down and picking Josephina up in her arms. Joey's arms were lifeless, gravity pulling them down. Her neck would have done the same thing if Lyra hadn't been holding it. Lyra closed her eyes, rocking Joey against her.

She couldn't do this again. She wasn't strong enough. Joey felt like death against her. Perhaps when Joey got older her daughter would want to go through with the last potion, but Lyra couldn't bring herself to do it. Not if the result was this. She was in the mild range, and she had been told before that people in this range had been able to go on with full lives and be independent. Maybe it wouldn't even be obvious that she had a mental disability.

Lyra wasn't sure if she could handle another child with Josephina's samedifficulties. She was terrified of the possibility. Josephina was already a handful, and Lyra was alone. Lyra wasn't strong enough to handle two of them. She was barely strong enough to handle this.

Lyra wiped at a stray tear, taking a trembling breath in. She would always fight for her daughter. For any children she would ever have. It was worth it.

* * *

An owl pecked at her window, where Lyra had Josephina lying on the overly large bed with her. Lyra was lonely often, and she wished she knew at least one person with a child. Perhaps Joey would have a playmate then, and Lyra someone to talk to. Romilda, Mary, and Ginny visited. Mostly Ginny. Romilda and Mary were wary of her house.

Mary was going back to school.

She had decided to become an Unspeakable, which would require her going back for a seventh year and then going to the ministry to train some more. Most likely years. Mary was focusing on this, and it was a good distraction. Mary no longer had nightmares, and wasn't frightened of someone coming to get her. She was doing amazing all things considered. Lyra gave her friend the much needed space she needed. Mary had to root herself again, get ahold of her fears so that they did not take over her life. Mary was the only one going back to Hogwarts.

Romilda was still in limbo, and last Lyra had heard from Ginny she had tried out to be on the Holyhead Harpies. It had been a month or so since then, but they hadn't given her a no so far and Ginny took that as good news.

It was as the healer had told her. At first Josephina was lethargic, refusing to eat or even drink. But on the third day she began to bounce back, becoming ravenous. The improvements were immediate. Her reflexes were not as dazed. She began to make more noises, and her eyes were not as dull. Even with all of this Lyra had decided to hold off on the last potion. Lyra was thankful for even this much.

Lyra opened the window, letting in a bit of cool air as the owl flew in and preened. She untied the letter, blinking in surprise as she realized whose owl it was. It let out a low hoot, rubbing its head against Lyra's palm before disappearing out the window. She watched as it went, twirling the letter in her hand until the crest faced her.

She carefully pried underneath it, pulling it loose. The letter unraveled, revealing official looking, loopy writing penned in large font.

 _We cordially invite you to the wedding of Draco Lucius Malfoy and Astoria Marie Greengrass_

 _Saturday, November 15th, at 2PM_

 _Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire, Great Britain_

 _Dinner reception to follow._

She stared down in disbelief, tempted to floo over to Malfoy Manor and discover exactly what was going on. Last Lyra had spoken to her brother he had vowed to never leave Pansy Parkinson. Now she was getting wedding invites in the mail for a different woman?

Granted, it had been a few months since she had spoken to him. Her family had been avoiding her since the end of the war. Perhaps things changed, not that Lyra was complaining about not having Parkinson as a step-sister. That news was grand.

Draco had loved Pansy very much, and this invitation worried her. Lyra wondered if her father was somehow forcing Draco to do this. He had been so adamant on sticking with Pansy that this was strange. She was sorely tempted to go over to her childhood home to get to the bottom of this, but Lyra wasn't certain how welcomed she was.

At least she had gotten an invitation.

* * *

A/N: Ugh, I'm such a bad author for the switch up. I'll have to pay more attention. Sorry for the decrease in chapters lately. I've been preoccupied writing my original book. Half way done writing so far, still one more mountain to go... and then there's the editing. It's gonna be a while before it's published lol.


	66. Chapter 66

**IMPORTANT A/N READ BEFORE CONTINUING:** So I royally screwed up and _posted chapter 66 instead of 65 last week._ I didn't check reviews until about four days later either so I couldn't do a quick switch. So if you guys want to read what was supposed to be last weeks chapter, aka the real chapter 65, then it is located in the previous chapter. For those that actually still want to review after reading it and already reviewed last week, you would either have to send me an email or review chapter 66 since fanfiction does not allow multiple reviews. I'M SORRY! At least it wasn't something _too_ major last chapter, still important enough to post though.

* * *

Chapter 66

* * *

Lyra wasn't certain about how she felt about having a son, but it was what the friendly matron had told her upon finishing her check-up. She'd had them check and double check to see if he appeared to have anything wrong with him. So far everything appeared normal, but they couldn't be completely sure until he was born. She had remembered her deal with Marcus, deciding to hold to it even though he was not around anymore. She sent him a two sentenced letter explaining she had become pregnant from the tryst in the judge's chambers and it was to be a boy.

She had been more than happy to gloat at the uncle when he came back, pointing to her stomach and proclaiming it male and healthy. For a moment she was certain he would kill her on the spot, but then that easy smile appeared and he left with a bow. She was certain he would check in to make sure the child was healthy. Everything was riding on that.

She ran a hand over her raised belly, fixing the carefully placed curls in her hair. Joey was adorable, dressed up in purple dress robes with a bow in her hair. She pulled at a stray curl of Lyra's, attempting to place it in her mouth.

Lyra's stomach fluttered with nerves, but she was sure on this. She couldn't miss her brother's wedding, after all.

She showed up a few hours early. Mother was still preparing, telling all the hired help exactly how she wanted everything. Mother appeared loss for words when she first saw Lyra, watching her quietly. Then she hurried over, pulling Lyra into a hug and kissing Josephina's head. Her eyes widened as she felt Lyra's bump.

"You're pregnant again?"

Lyra nodded, adjusting Joey higher on her hip.

"… is it Marcus'?"

Lyra scowled at her mother. "Of course it is. Do you think I'm some harlot ready to run off with the first man I see?"

Her mother had the decency to blush. "Of course not," she answered, not meeting Lyra's gaze. "Well what is it? A boy or a girl?"

"A boy."

Happiness glittered in her mother's eyes. Lyra could still see the tiredness in them. "This is a wonderful day. A wedding and a grandchild all in one."

It seemed the invite wasn't given for proprieties sake, as her mother was acting as she usually did. "Where is father?"

Mother's smile fell, avoiding eye contact. "Your father does not often leave our room. He does not like to take visitors. He will be down later for the wedding."

Lyra bit down on the side of her cheek, nodding. "Where is Draco?"

"In your father's study." She grimaced, the corner of her eyes tense. "I mean Draco's study."

Lyra was at a loss for words.

"Here, let me see Josephina. Go visit with him." Mother took Joey from her arms, gesturing for Lyra to enter the house. Lyra gathered herself, walking purposefully up the stairs to the study.

She opened the door without knocking. Draco was at the window, staring down at the wedding preparations. His hands were held loosely behind his back, at ease. Surprise echoed in his eyes when he turned around.

Lyra shut the door behind her, taking a seat in front of the formidable oak desk.

"Mother wasn't certain you would come," he murmured, sitting down behind the desk and leaning back. It was odd to see her brother like this, so in his element when it was always father's.

"I wasn't certain if I would come either… you all never reached out to me after the war. I wasn't sure if I was welcome."

His lightly colored brows rose, almost white in color. "Father wished to give you some room after… everything. We weren't certain what you wanted. It was one of father's last wishes."

"Last wishes before what?"

"Before he handed everything over to me."

Lyra blinked rapidly, almost unwilling to believe her brother's words. Father had gotten his wand broken but she hadn't expected him to give up the business and political games so easily. It seemed Draco could see the question on her face.

"Father is tired. Azkaban changed him; the war changed him. He's found his wishes are no longer what they were."

Lyra frowned. "What exactly does that mean?"

For the first time an edge of tiredness appeared. He rubbed his hands across his face, taking a deep breath in. "It means father is tired, and he feels his age now more than ever."

That one sentence relaxed her, despite the bad news. It meant her brother did not view her as a stranger, that they were still family. That he still trusted her and did not worry if Lyra would tell anyone. He would not tell her a weakness otherwise.

That meant more to her than anything.

"Father accepts me?"

"Of course," he mumbled, shocked by the question. "We all changed during this war, Lyra. We began realizing what was really important. What should have been important the whole time. You're family," he stressed. "It doesn't matter that your last name is Flint. You're still family."

She tapped her fingers on the edge of his desk, contemplative. "I plan on divorcing Marcus. What do you think of that?"

"We will all be happy for you, except mother perhaps. You know how she likes her appearances."

"What if I remarry?"

He glanced at her, the edge of a smirk on his lips. "You're pushing me aren't you?" He let out a soft laugh. "Even if you marry a muggleborn you are still family." He grimaced, appearing displeased by his words. "Not that we will accept him, but _you_ will always be welcome."

That meant more to her than anything. Now, after all her struggles she finally had a choice. One where she didn't have to worry if her family would disown her. She no longer had to choose between love and family, and it was a wonderful feeling.

"The children?"

He became pale. "One obstacle at a time Lyra. Please. Let us adjust." He glanced down at her stomach. "Please tell that isn't the offspring of some muggleborn you met and that is why you're asking these. I'd rather you gained weight. Please, tell me you gained weight."

Lyra giggled, rubbing at her belly. "You will be an uncle again, and Joey will have a brother." She paused, enjoying the suspense on his face as he waited for her to answer his question. "They have the same father. Do not worry so much."

He let out a sigh of relief, bringing his head up to stare at the ceiling. "We've been having a family reunion for all of five minutes and you're already giving me heart attacks."

Lyra studied him, worry tugging at her lips. "You mentioned before one of father's conditions for handing you the Malfoy fortune was waiting for me to reach out. What were the others?"

His mouth became a thin, white line. "Only one other."

"And?" she pressed.

He sighed, musing his hair. "To marry Astoria Greengrass." When he glanced up to see Lyra's unhappy expression, he hurried out, "I still chose this. I think even if he hadn't given me that ultimatum I still would have married her. We've had enough things happen to us as a family. I did not wish to argue, and Pansy and I had somewhat come apart during the war."

She watched him, reading the expressions he still was not good at hiding. "But you still love her."

His eyes met her. "Of course, just like some part of you will always love that mudblood."

Lyra flinched, breaking the eye contact. Draco took a startled breath in. "That's right. I had heard he did not make it through the war. I'm very sorry."

She managed a small smile. "I'm sorry it did not work out with you and Pansy."

He shook his head. "If I married her it would only cause problems. Mother hated her. Father hated her. I'm very certain _you_ hated her. At least Astoria is polite."

And beautiful. It was an important thing to her father.

"Will you ever love her?"

For a moment he appeared almost scared. "I think I can. One day." His eyes drifted down to her stomach. "We're not rushing to having children, that's for sure. We will have them when we're ready. Mother will have to be happy with the two she will have from you."

"Is Astoria traditional?"

"Of course." He swallowed thickly, rubbing at his jaw in thought. "Nothing like we were. She believes in blood ties, in keeping purebloods in the pureblood circles, but she doesn't care what muggleborns and halfbloods do. As long as they do not bother her she has no trouble."

"What would she think if I married a muggleborn or halfblood?"

"I don't think she'd be very happy, but she would not stir trouble. She would most likely be uneasy more than anything, a bit stiff around you perhaps."

This was more than Lyra ever expected. She could deal with that.

"You're not completely set on not having a pureblood husband, are you?"

"It's not that, I'm just-" She paused, attempting to put words to the thoughts floating in her head. "I want to know that if something like that were to happen, you guys would still be there."

He nodded, pushing back his hair to its original place. "We are not what we once were. No, we're too tired for that. We've fought enough." He walked over to the floor length mirror to finish his adjustments.

"You promise? You're not lying to me, are you?"

His eyes met hers through the mirror, startled. "I wouldn't lie to you."

"Yes, you would."

He turned to her, a slight look of surprise on his countenance. "I haven't lied to you in many years. Not since we were children. Not after you perfected your mask, which I might add is cracking day by day. Back then I was always telling lies and falsehoods. I was so angry. I wanted to be the perfect son, to do no wrong in father's eyes. Forcing you into a rage brought me more joy than you could imagine." He let out a bitter laugh. "I was quite envious back then, I was for a long time."

Lyra remained silent after he finished, pondering over his words. Lyra and Draco had never quite understood each other as children. Only in the past year, when things got the most difficult for them, did they begin to realize each other's point of views.

"What is Astoria like?" Lyra murmured, clutching the edge of the arm rest.

His expression became thoughtful, his head tilting up slightly. "Quiet, but polite. She's very obedient. Kind of like what you were like before." His eyes bore into hers, probing.

She arched an eyebrow in question. "Then how do you know if that's the real her? She's only slightly older than I was when I got married. Why don't you two wait a few years?"

Draco shrugged, standing up and walking over to a cabinet that faced the opposite wall. He pulled out a bottle of white wine, two crystal glasses in his other hand as he walked back over. "Father wants it, Astoria's family wishes for this as well. If Astoria has an issue with it she never voiced it."

"That doesn't mean that is what she wants," Lyra pressed. "You know how pureblood girls are trained. You've seen how I was taught. Be seen not heard. Never let anyone get the best of you. Withhold all affection unless there is something to gain. Draco, she is the same."

He poured equal amounts of wine into the cups, adding more to the second one after a moment's hesitation and drinking heavily from it. "I'm pregnant, you know I can't drink that," she mumbled.

He frowned. "Not even a little?"

She picked up the glass after contemplating, taking a sip.

"I think you're wrong about her. Very wrong. Where you were hiding an independent woman with thoughts of her own, Astoria took to the teachings. The only thing she ever brought up was the wedding night. She was quite nervous about that."

Lyra shook her head. "She should be. It's horrible for women."

Draco shrugged. "It doesn't matter. In the end we decided this will be a marriage only in name, at least until we wish to have children." He glanced at her. "Don't tell mother and father that."

"You two will not…?" she trailed off, eyeing him.

He flushed slightly, shaking his head and downing more wine. "No. Nothing like that. We're both doing this to please our parents. I think one day she will be a good mother and a good wife, but not today. She still has Hogwarts to think of, and whatever else she wants to do before having children."

Lyra stared at him, a solemn expression on her face. Her life would have been so different if Marcus had a similar mind frame. It relaxed her to think nothing would be forced on Astoria, and there would be no unplanned pregnancies. Not unless they suddenly changed their minds, which Lyra couldn't see happening. Draco was still in love with Pansy, and Astoria most likely had other things on her mind than sexual relations with her husband.

Lyra raised her glass in a silent cheer, taking another sip. "To your marriage, may it be better than mine."

He nearly chocked on his wine, gaping at her in obvious shock. He snorted, shaking his head in amusement before lifting his glass. "To a smoother marriage."

She raised her glass again, but abstained from another drink. She didn't want to have too much.


	67. Chapter 67

Chapter 67

* * *

With her sudden pregnancy, opening and running the betting ring became second in importance. She kept her promise to the employees, but had the manager run it in place of her. Lyra could handle balancing the check book at home, only visiting the shop about once a week.

Lyra was horrible at managing a business. She had found this out the hard way when she began to panic when none of her numbers would add up. She hadn't known what to do, and worried that her employees were stealing from her. Ginny had been over thankfully, and had gotten George to come over to give her a lesson in business.

"It was a simple error here. See? You forgot to carry over last month's profits and that made it appear as if money were missing. Don't worry about it being perfect, that's almost impossible. If there begins to be a trend of a lot of money missing, then worry. But based on this I don't think you're being cheated. There's only," he paused, glancing back at the paper. "You're missing roughly ten galleons from this month. Change gets lost, knuts add up in a business like this. Don't sweat stuff like that."

Lyra gnawed on the side of her cheek anxiously. "When should I worry?"

"Err." He scrolled down the figure written haphazardly across the scroll. "Twenty or more? That's when Fred and I began looking into things." He flinched, rubbing at the stub of his ear morosely.

"I'm glad you were able to run your shop again."

He shrugged, unwilling to look at her. "Ginny was becoming annoyed. She doesn't like working the store much."

It was strange how well George and Lyra had hit it off. George was different from Hogwarts, quieter. Much more reserved. It was most likely because he was still grieving Fred. Once and a while his old persona would come through, but those moments weren't as forthcoming as they once were.

"Well thank you so much for helping me."

George nodded, standing up to stretch out his joints. They made audible pops in the air. "I'll come over next week to help you some more. You're catching on pretty well for a beginner. I guess I'll see you around." He did an awkward wave, grabbing some floo powder and disappearing in the green flames.

It was still silent upstairs. Romilda was currently entertaining Joey for Lyra during her lesson. For all Lyra knew both of them had fallen asleep.

Her thoughts drifted to her brother's wedding, of her father and how solemn he was. He appeared tired, almost depressed. Mother was supportive in her own way, the pureblood way, whispering things into his ear every now and then that would quirk a miniscule grin across his lips for the barest of moments.

She had been wrong about Draco. He had appeared to Lyra as he always had in his office, but once they were in public he became a stranger.

He looked alarmingly like their father, even with their mother's pretty features gracing his.

In the months that Lyra had been absent Draco had grown into a pureblood male. He seemed to have lost that childishness Lyra often witnessed in Hogwarts. During the whole ceremony the only contact Astoria and Draco had shared was when Draco kissed her hand. She had flushed the slightest of pinks, whispering a thank you that could only be made out if a person was able to read Astoria's lips. Draco had been giving a speech about how happy he was to marry Astoria, not that he meant it. But he _appeared_ to, and that's what was important. The kiss was appropriate, convincing. It pushed off any rumors, unlike when Lyra had been married and she received a headline for looking terrified.

Lyra had finally met Astoria, and she was everything Lyra expected. Astoria's older sister Daphne was much more vocal about her wishes and desires. She had let it slip that at first her parents had wanted Daphne to marry Draco, with them being the same age. Daphne had adamantly disagreed, stating she still wanted a couple of years to live on her own and experience life.

Not that she had a chance to marry Draco anyways. Daphne wasn't as uncomely as Pansy, but she was near that. It appeared Astoria had gotten all the beauty and patrician features between the two.

If father could have been pickier about Lyra's own husband she knew he would have. But as it was there were not many choices. At least Flint became more attractive after fixing his teeth. She could tell father had been happy about that, as obsessed as he was about physical appearances.

The reception had been as Lyra expected it, no more and no less. She had gone home that night exhausted. Apparently losing her husband placed her back on the market. Many men had asked Lyra to dance, despite being pregnant and having a child of her own. In the pureblood circles Malfoy was still a powerful name, and Draco was showing them no visible weaknesses. She was proud of him. She knew she would no longer have to worry about Draco's safety. He could take care of that himself.

Romilda liked Lyra's house better than her parents'. Romilda loved her father, but every time she saw him she was reminded of the war. His missing leg was obvious, and Romilda could not stand to see him that way.

So she avoided him. She avoided home.

After two weeks of Romilda being at Lyra's house nearly every day Lyra offered her a room of her own. She had trembled with giddiness, wrapping her arms around Lyra's neck and thanking her profusely. Romilda had raced home to get her things, and to probably share the news with her family.

Things had been easier to manage once Romilda moved in. When Lyra had to be away Romilda was there. Lyra trusted her friend with Josephina. Romilda adored Joey, and Joey had taken well to the new addition of the family. Lyra was tempted to hire on Romilda as a nanny, but she was still thinking that through. Romilda would have to get a job one day, and Lyra preferred this over anything else. Romilda enjoyed it, and Lyra had someone she trusted to watch her daughter. It was a plus for the both of them.

Lyra rubbed her protruding stomach lovingly. Sometimes she would be stricken in fear at the thought that her son would be like Joey. She couldn't handle it. She loved Joey, but that did not stop Lyra from wishing Josephina could have a normal life. As Joey grew it would become more obvious. Lyra wasn't even certain if her daughter would be allowed to go to Hogwarts, but Lyra would pass that bridge when she came to it.

A tawny owl flew towards her, letting out a coo and nicking a piece of bread. The scroll dropped from its feet and rolled across the counter, falling off the edge. Lyra grunted as she picked it up, frowning at it. She wasn't expecting a letter. It didn't look very dangerous, and the only character it had was a smear of dirt on one of the edges.

She sat down, pulling the scroll open to read, her breath becoming unsteady as she realized who it was from.

 _My Dearest Lyra,_

 _I've run over and over in my mind our last meeting. The blondeness of your hair, the smell of your perfume rubbed against your neck. The feeling of your soft, unsteady breaths against my chest as you curled into me. It all replays over and over again, and I miss you more every time I think about it but I cannot help it._

 _It's lonelier here than you can imagine. The demeantors are stifling, and it seems as each one passes I lose another cherished memory of you. A sorely needed memory. They are the only things that get me through each day._

 _Part of me wonders if I meant my last words to you. After I was dragged to Azkaban I've had a lot of time to think._

 _I've come to realize my wish to hurt Josephina would be less than my want to keep you happy. I don't think I would have killed her in the end. She means too much to you, and if I were honest she means a lot to me too. Just because I would have wanted to kill her does not mean I do not care for her. I would have kept her safe in the end. I would not have allowed her to leave the house out of shame, but I would not have killed her either. Not with you as her mother. Every time I looked at her I remember seeing your cheek bones and eye shape, the softness of your hair. She is as much you as she is me. Perhaps we will have a beautiful Flint after all._

 _You will not comprehend how much joy it gave me to hear the news of us having a son. It was noble of you to still hold to our deal of allowing me to name our son. I want him to be called Danold Marcus so that he will have a piece of who should have been in his life. I am so very sorry for not being there for you. I've forced you to be a single mother. Our children will grow up with words for a father, descriptions, never knowing the real thing. I've ruined us, I know this now._

 _No matter your feelings for me I will always cherish you, the memory of you. How much I love you. I hope one day you can forgive me._

 _Your hopeless husband,_

 _Marcus_


	68. Chapter 68

Chapter 68

* * *

Who knew stressing over an uneven check book would force her into labor. At least this time it was about on time, only a week ahead of schedule.

Although Lyra's second pregnancy was more difficult, the birthing was easier. Lyra did not have to be put to sleep by magic, and managed to get him out all by herself. She had been proud of herself. She had been strong and not waivered.

She immediately had the healers check for anything out of the norm. To her relief her son really was a healthy baby boy. He was not special needs, and did not have any other maladies.

George had been kind enough to help Lyra out with her business for the first two weeks after birth. He had even managed to scare off The Crow, what Lyra now called her children's great uncle. He had scavenged for an answer, making sure little Dan had not been handicapped in any way. He had disappeared just as he came after finding the answer.

Josephina and Danold were close in age, but not close enough to be in the same year. They were exactly nineteen months apart, a year and seven months. Hopefully they would care for each other unlike Lyra and Draco had. There had been too much competition between Lyra and Draco when they were growing up.

It was strange. At nineteen years old she already had two children.

Hopefully no more would be added to her nest.

It was frustrating for Lyra whenever she went to the betting ring. Neither the employees nor the customers took her seriously. She had been improving at running the business and barely ever made mistakes, but they still did not respect her.

The manager was carefully polite, but who knew what he said when Lyra was not around. All of the employees may be bastards but they knew what they were doing.

So Lyra let them be.

"I don't understand George. I treat them well. I even gave a few of them raises and made one of them a manager. No matter what I do I can't get them to treat me seriously," Lyra griped, pacing back and forth in front of her desk that had once been her husband's. And before that her father-in-law's. It had seen many masters in its time.

George's lips pursed, tapping the quill in thought on the oak desk. "Do you want me to be truthful or encouraging?" he asked finally.

Lyra paused, watching him unsure. She wasn't sure which one was better. "Truthful?"

He nodded, turning towards her. "Then I will tell you straight. They will never respect you as a boss."

Her jaw dropped. She opened her mouth to combat him, but nothing would come out.

"I will tell you why," he continued. "You are a woman. Yes, women have equal rights. Women hold high jobs in the ministry, and there have even been female Prime Ministers. But," he continued, using his hands to speak just as much as his mouth. "The wizarding community is not the pureblood circle. A majority of your clientele are traditional pureblood enthusiasts. They do not view women in the same light as we do. They think men are the best at running something as clear cut as a business. I know this because I am pureblood as well, and grandma Prewett used to rave about it before she kicked the bucket.

Yes, with time and dedication you could get them to respect you and treat you like any man. But you do not have that luxury. Not with two children to raise."

Lyra knew this was true. Most of her time had to go to her kids. Danold was not even a month old, and Josephina was special needs. She had improved tremendously, but she still had her issues. Josephine still could not speak any words despite the fact she was at the age where most toddlers could. She became frustrated easily, screeching until Lyra or Romilda could figure out what she wanted. It always upset Danold, who would cry instantly at the un-heavenly noise bursting forth from Josephina's cherub mouth.

Lyra frowned. "Why are you helping me?"

She had never gotten the courage to ask him before.

"Why not, I figure. You're not a bad person. You even helped us." He swallowed thickly at his off-handed mention of Fred. "When we asked you to handle Umbridge. I owed you, I can at least do this."

"You're different from before," she murmured.

"Of course I'm different! The other part of me is gone!" He groaned, gripping his head. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to yell. I just miss him, you know?"

"Of course," Lyra whispered contrite. "How did you lose your ear?" She flushed immediately after asking, realizing that could be something personal. "Never mind." She shifted slightly, her gaze drifting to the wall.

"All I'm saying is I think you need to realize how people view you," George murmured, continuing their earlier conversation and skipping over her question. "I'd suggest choosing one of your current employees you trust and establishing them as 'the boss.' Let everyone else say what they want to say. You'd still own the building, and it would still be your children's when they grow. I know that's what you care about the most."

That was true. Lyra didn't care how people viewed her. As long as her children got what belonged to them the rest would not matter. She'd have to think over who she would want to place as the head.

"Thank you," she muttered, watching as he gathered his stuff to leave. "How did you know all that? I mean, the reason why no one would listen to me?"

His hand clenched inside the Floo powder bowl, the side of his face in perfect view. "When you listen, that is when you can make people do what you want them to do." He shrugged sheepishly, disappearing into the green fire.

* * *

She was tired and needed a break from everything. Disappearing into the muggle world was the only place she could really get that. No one would whisper behind her back as she walked by, no children would point fingers. Lyra only wanted to be alone where no one would notice or understand who or what she was.

A bar seemed as good as any other place. Besides, she sorely needed a drink after the week she had. It's why for the past half hour she had been drinking strange muggle alcohol, whatever the bartender recommended, and watching bizarre muggle sports. This one they kicked a ball across the ground and attempted to kick them into netted rectangles, from what she could gather.

Ginny had made the Holyhead Harpies as one of the chasers. They had taken their time deciding, but Ginny had been chosen in the end. Her first game had been last week. She'd been nervous, muttering to Romilda and Lyra how anxious she was about messing up. Potter had calmed her down strangely enough. They worked well together.

Romilda had been ecstatic to be hired on as Lyra's nanny. Lyra wasn't sure how long Romilda would want to do that, but both of them were happy at the moment. Right now Romilda was watching Josephina and Danold at home. Joey had learned to crawl and had become a menace. She disappeared every time Lyra turned her back. It was maddening.

Mary had begun Unspeakable training. It called for long days, and most of the time Mary could not be found. Sometimes she would visit during the weekends, but other than that all her time went to learning the secrets of her trade.

A man with a hat covering most his face sat down next to her. He had on a plaid shirt and something Romilda referred to as 'muggle jeans.' Not as if there were such a thing as wizarding jeans. He glanced at her, his lips tilting up in a smile. "I'll buy you a drink?"

Lyra shrugged, shoving her mug closer to the bar tender to fill up. The man next to her stared at the sports channel, tilting back his beer.

"Is anything good happening?"

"Not sure," she mumbled. "I don't watch sports."

His head was lifted up to watch the TV, his mouth slightly open. He had dark brown hair with a fair amount of scruff covering his face. From what she could tell he had brown eyes, but the shadow covering his face from his hat made her unsure.

"Is your old man meeting you here?" he asked, gesturing towards the ring on her finger.

Lyra flushed, pulling her hands in her lap and twisting the ring. She had never taken it off, although she knew she should. She had been so used to it. "I don't have an old man, not really?"

His face conveyed confusion. "There's nothing more committal than a wedding ring."

"I know, I just- I never got to taking it off… or sending out divorce papers. I just get so busy, and then the ring seems to be the least amount of my worries."

"It didn't work out with him?"

Lyra's lips became a thin line of displeasure. "You could say that. He's in prison for life."

He winced, biting down on his lip. "Rough. I used to have a girl too. It took me a few years to realize she was no good for me, and a lot of nettling from my mother too. I suppose my first hint would have been when she left our little girl alone to get some drugs, but what can I say? I was head over heels in love with her." He stuck his hand out to her. "Tim. My name is Tim Williams."

She shook his hand. It felt warm and heavy in hers. "Lyra Malfoy. My married name was Flint, but I think I should start using Malfoy again."

It was great to say her name and have no recognition in his eyes. For him to not realize who she was, and what her family stood for.

"Lyra? That's different."

She smiled softly. "You could say my mother has a soft spot for the stars. My older brother's name is Draco." Not so much as her mother as the whole Black family.

He chucked, knocking on the wooden bar counter to gesture for the bartender to fill up their drinks.

"How old is your little girl?" Lyra asked out of curiosity.

"Three. She's in the stage where she loves everything pink and wants to be a princess. What about you? Any munchkins of your own?"

Lyra had no clue what a munchkin was but she could figure out from context what he was asking. "Two. A boy and a girl. My daughter's only two and my son a few months old."

He laughed. "So tonight's a get away night? I don't miss them when they're that young. Anna had some lungs on her, I tell ya."

Lyra giggled, shaking her head in amusement. "Is it the same for you? Is it your get away night?"

"Sort of. It's a Friday and mum agreed to watch her. Miranda, my ex-girlfriend, doesn't really come around much. Not unless she's desperate. Sometimes she remembers she has a daughter but that's not often."

"You've never been married?"

"We were engaged. I thought it was the right thing to do after getting her pregnant. I learned my lesson about that. I barely knew her."

Lyra knew all about that sort of thing. It happened quite a lot in the pureblood circle. Marriage was always the answer when something like that happened. It was a rare occasion that it did not result in that, unless they decided to get rid of it. Lyra had a feeling that happened much more than she believed, based on what Tracy had told her on the train.

Now that Lyra could see Tim better she could see he was attractive in a rugged way. He appeared to be a man that worked with his hands based on all the scars and callouses on his fingers.

"What do you do for a living?"

"I'm a construction worker."

"Ahh," Lyra whispered, having no clue what that was. She figured she should just act like she did.

"You see that uncomplete building across the street?" Lyra could just make it out between the opened doors of the bar. "I was working on that. The bar was conveniently nearby. My buddies are right over there." He pointed over to a rowdy bunch of men screaming at the TV and laughing merrily.

"They're a lively bunch, aren't they?" She glanced at him. "Why did you come over here? Surely you would have more fun with them."

He grinned nice and slow, his eyes holding her. "I saw a beautiful woman across the bar room. I had to at least introduce myself."

Lyra blushed heavily, unable to meet his eyes.

"Of course, once I got closer I saw the wedding band and it threw me off. But I figured I was already over here and might as well stop by."

"Your friends didn't mind?" she mumbled.

He burst into laughter. "Course not! They're the ones who egged me to do it! They call me pretty boy," he scoffed. "Most of them have wives. They attempt to live vicariously through me."

She wasn't certain what 'egged' meant, but Lyra was doing mighty well for her first visit alone in the muggle world. She hadn't said anything to throw him off from what she could tell. A second glance over and she could tell his assessment was right. He did appear to be the most attractive of the bunch. Most of them were older and had a full beard going on. She had no clue what they would look without it. The rest of them had various skin ailments except for one. He could be Tim's competition.

"I normally shave. I think that has something with them calling me pretty boy too," he muttered with a scowl.

Lyra laughed loudly, clutching her stomach. With that look on his face he had de-aged himself by years. Lyra could picture what he looked like as a little boy.

"What?" He sounded clueless.

"Nothing," she giggled. "How old are you?"

"Twenty-three. You?"

"I'm nineteen, almost twenty."

His brows raised in surprise and he nodded. It didn't take much to do the math that she had a child at seventeen.

"You got pregnant and married early too?"

Her good mood was shaken off. "No, it's… I'm not sure how to explain it." She couldn't tell him about pureblood politics, or the wizarding war. She couldn't tell him anything.

"I respect that," he said easily, finishing off his drink. He stood up to stretch. "Well if you ever want someone to talk to I'm here just about every Friday. I'll see you around, perhaps."

It didn't miss Lyra's attention that he had given her the decision to choose what she wanted.

She liked that.

* * *

Guest Comments:

Allie- I mean, it's hard to say? It's like he leads a double life or has a split personality. He loves Lyra and has cared about her since he was thirteen. He wanted to keep her hidden from the things he did because he knew it would bother her, not because he found it morally wrong. So... I really don't know. I think he will always love Lyra and would have taken care of her, and dealt with Joey because he wouldn't want to upset Lyra, but then he also kills and rapes people and he sees no problem with that. After that trial Lyra never could have had a life with him, and no amount of begging on Marcus' side would have changed that.


	69. Chapter 69

Chapter 69

* * *

Lyra stood at the corner of the intersection, watching a blonde teenager stare morosely at the ground. She kicked her feet every few moments, attempting to rustle the dirt beneath her.

After a few minutes of this Lyra walked over, sitting down on the bench right next to her. The girl gave her a suspicious glance, but then studiously ignored her.

"It's a bit windy today, isn't it?" Lyra glanced up at the sky casually. She could feel the girl's eyes on her, sizing her up.

"I suppose," the girl muttered reluctantly.

Lyra nodded, watching the children at the playground race around with ruddy cheeks and wind swept hair. If Joey could walk Lyra would have taken her, but as it was her daughter was still attempting to stand. At this stage she was hurting herself constantly, falling over and banging her head. Lyra's little girl still did not give up. She was tenacious, if anything. Kind of like her mother.

"Is that your brother over there?" Lyra pointed over to a similarly blonde haired boy with the same eyes and nose.

"Yes, why?" Anyone could tell the girl was suspicious.

"No reason, just making conversation."

The girl's nose wrinkled, distrust obvious in her features. She shifted minutely, her hands tightly bound in her lap.

"It's okay to be afraid," Lyra began, watching the girl from her peripherals. "It's natural, really."

The young blonde stared at her in shock. "How do you know I'm afraid?"

Lyra let out a soft laugh. "Because you do the same thing I do when I am frightened."

"But I'm afraid of everything," she scoffed. "Ever since-" She trailed off, losing the color in her cheeks. A look of hopelessness filtered through her gaze, blank and lifeless. "I'm only out here because mum forced me to. She said I couldn't live the rest of my life in my room. She wants me to get better, thinks it's all magical and I can just switch it off and everything will be alright. But it doesn't work that way."

The girl swallowed, eyes ringed in tears. "Sometimes I think I should just give up. It's too hard, and all I do is bring down my family. At least then they don't have to be dragged down with me. I wouldn't have any nightmares or fear every stranger if I ended it all. I don't want to hurt anymore."

"If you give up you let them win," Lyra whispered. "The people who wish you harm, who want to get one over on you, they win. You can't give them that satisfaction."

"But I'm so tired," she mumbled, shoving her hands in her pockets. "Nothing seems to help. My mum gets me counselors and I get angry at them. They don't understand and I don't want to talk about it. Why can nobody get that?"

"You can't hold everything inside of you. That's not good for you either."

The girl frowned, kicking roughly at the dirt beneath her.

"Sometimes life is hard," Lyra continued. "Sometimes you want to give up because there doesn't seem to be anything waiting for you right around that corner. But if you wait, I promise you things will get better. It's not going to be magical. It's going to be tough work. You'll have to learn to trust again, you'll have to show people that you're stronger than you look even though you want to crumble. At the end of it all, everything will be worth it. You'll look back on that day and realize how far you've come, and know how much you would have lost if you had given up. So don't. Talk to people; friends and family. People in similar situations as you. If you do that you will make it," Lyra promised.

She appeared thoughtful, her eyes following her brother as he raced up the multicolored stairs and down the slide. "How did you know I needed someone to talk to?"

Lyra grinned. "I could tell."

The girl beside her took a deep breath in. "You're right. It's going to be hard. I'm going to have to trust again and realize not everyone is out to get me. I can do anything I want and he's not there to stop me, not if I don't let him." She turned to look at Lyra. "Thank you. I needed this so much, someone that wasn't involved or even knew the situation to give me advice. I won't give up. _I'm_ going to win, not him."

Lyra shoved a piece of crumpled paper in her hands, standing up. "If you ever need me to talk to, just send a letter. Or ask the person at that number to talk to the girl you saw at the park. Don't ever give up, you have so much to live for."

The girl's eyes coated with tears and she nodded, a stubborn look on her face as she glared out into the playground.

Lyra walked away, her work done. She had set out to accomplish what she had wanted to. She could live with herself better knowing that she had helped this girl get through this tough time in her life. Lyra had done what she could, and now the rest was left to her.

After all, it wasn't easy facing the girl with her face that Marcus had raped.

* * *

Lyra stared at the gravestone before her, a heavy feeling in her soul. It glinted in the sunlight, the words etched into the stone and hammering into her heart.

 _In loving memory of Colin Adrian Creevy_

 _June 22, 1981- May 2, 1998_

 _Be still.  
Close your eyes.  
Breathe.  
Listen for my footsteps in your heart.  
I am not gone but walking within you._

Cropped up against the headstone was a picture of Colin with his brother Dennis, a messily scrawled message saying, "Lost but not forgotten. I miss you brother."

Her eyes filled with tears and she clutched at her sleeves.

How she missed him.

She would never be able to replace him. He had taught her love, and what it was like to be free from society's expectations. How to be strong when you were afraid, and to love without worry. She would always have a piece of him in her heart, and like the words on his gravestone said he would always be there.

He had been the humming beneath her veins, the gasp in her every breath. His truths were her undoing, but they also set her free. She pulled the picture out of her jacket, rubbing at the scratches on the surface. He was smiling her favorite smile, the one that warmed his eyes and made his gaze softer. It was from easier times, before the Dark Lord had been reborn and she had been pulled into everyone's master plans and been only a puppet for everyone's pleasure.

She placed it next to the other picture, a part of her being left behind with it. She had to let go of it, to let go of him. She would never move on otherwise. It didn't matter how much it hurt to do so, of course it did. She knew he wouldn't like her to hold onto his memory and never move on. Colin wasn't that way.

She pictured how different her life may have been if she had changed some of her choices. Maybe she should have gone with Colin when he asked to run away with her. Maybe that would have somehow changed his fate. Perhaps if she had only told Ronald Weasley when he demanded for the truth, giving up her family instead of her love, it all would have worked out. Lyra wondered if she could have accepted those consequences, like she had been forced to accept the one's she had already made.

Summer could turn to fall, autumn to winter. Spring would come, and then it would repeat. Time went on, it shouted at her. No one would see how broken she was behind her mask.

But someone had, and it had woken her up just enough to realize she couldn't keep doing this to herself. It was no way to live.

So she shed her tears, remaining strong as she stood and left that picture. He would always hold a piece of her.

She only hoped that behind the veil he had found peace.

* * *

Guest Comments:

ReginaScorpionem22- There isn't really any way for Lyra and Marcus to be together. He was doomed the first time he avada kedavra'ed someone, and was too well known to slip under the radar. Now Lyra is going to do things that makes her happy. She'd not going to worry about what strangers think and say anymore, she only cares about her family and friends.


	70. Chapter 70

Chapter 70

* * *

Lyra lifted a mug to her lips, blowing across the steam billowing up from the chocolatey liquid. Her eyes were cool, posture impeccable, showcasing every ounce of her pureblood heritage.

"Do you agree to our terms?"

The man across from her shifted anxiously, his eyes darting around the upscale café. They flitted side to side before meetings hers. "Of course."

She relaxed, leaning back in her chair. "I'm glad we have an understanding."

It had taken a bit of coaxing and goading on her part, but she had accomplished what she wanted. She finally had someone to run her business. A pureblood, just like George had suggested. It had taken them a few hours to make an agreement that they both felt like they profited, but she had managed it.

The man across from her, Mark Fawley, was her new head manager. She told him to say whatever he wanted about running it. He could even tell people she owned it only in name. Lyra would stop by the betting ring a few times a year unless she was needed more. She would go over all the profits to make sure she was not cheated, and she made it clear what the repercussions of that were.

It was safe to say she was almost certain he would not attempt to cheat her.

He would also have to go through her whenever he wanted to buy something for the store or make an improvement. She made it clear that when her son was older he would run it.

As much as she would like Joey to have it, she didn't think her little girl was made for that sort of business. People would take advantage of her, and she was a pureblood female. Her son Dan was the best option. If Joey wished to work there Lyra would not stop her. Perhaps when Josephina got older she would not be happy with her mother for this, but Lyra was doing what she thought was best.

* * *

Lyra was uncertain if this was even a good idea. She wasn't sure what Tim wanted, but she needed to find out. Some part of her desired, no, _yearned_ , for the information.

He was there just like he said he would be, across the bar staring into his mug of ale as his friends laughed around him. One of them noticed her and tapped him on the shoulder, pointing to where she stood.

Lyra blushed, hurrying over to an empty bar stool and ordering a drink. The bar tender grinned, setting a beer in front of her. Lyra hadn't enjoyed the muggle beer she had gotten last time, but she could manage to get it down at the least.

"You came," he said, sounding a bit pleased.

It had been two weeks since she first met him. She had gathered whatever courage resided inside of her and came back. "I did."

He gave her a tired grin, staring in front of him. He had on another hat with similar clothing as before. He was clean shaven, the biggest difference from last time. He looked different without the thick scruff on his face. Younger, and much more like the pretty boy his co-workers named him after. Not that Lyra would call him that.

"Rough week?" she asked.

He scowled into his drink. "Miranda showed up higher than a fucking kite this week. She was drunk too. Anna couldn't understand what was going on or why I was being so mean to her mum. Anna's still angry with me. She won't talk to me, tells me I have to apologize to her mum like I make her apologize when she does something bad."

Lyra whistled. "She's only three?"

He groaned. "Imagine her as a teenager. I'm over my head."

"Do you want my advice?"

He shrugged, fingers running up and down the glass wiping away the condensation that had gathered. "Sure, nothing else has worked."

"Apologize."

He glared at her, flicking off the excess water on his fingers and tipping his head back, downing most of his drink. "I'm not apologizing," he said stubbornly. "That woman is a menace. She's a bad example for Anna."

"But Anna doesn't understand that," she said patiently.

Tim stared at her.

"All she knows is that you were mean to her mum" she continued. "She's a three year old girl. She doesn't understand what getting high and being drunk and all that stuff means." It was best that way too.

"I don't want Anna thinking that's okay. One day she's going to understand all this."

"She's three," Lyra repeated. "She's not going to remember this in the long run. What she will remember is being disappointed by you. In the future when she's older she'll get it." She took a small sip of her drink. "Besides, you don't have to apologize for that. Apologize for something else when you say it."

His eyes conveyed confusion. "Like what?"

Lyra shrugged, eyes turned to the television. "Apologize for her having to see something like that. Apologize for allowing Anna to see you angry. You don't have to say what it is you're saying sorry for, just say it."

He appeared to calm. "I am sorry for those things."

Lyra nudged his shoulder. "I see you're stubborn and prideful."

"That doesn't have to be a bad thing."

Lyra shook her head. "No, it doesn't. I can be the same way at times. In truth, I should have apologized much more than I have in my life."

She could feel his eyes on her. "Like what?"

Lyra frowned, gnawing on her cheek. "When I was growing up I was much too protective of my brother, despite the fact that he was older. I did many mean things to people in my need to keep him safe."

"He was a trouble maker?"

Lyra laughed unexpectedly. "You could say that. His mouth always got him in trouble. He hated that I was always the one to defend him. I think it was because he was older and male. He'd say the nastiest things but be the first to start whining when things didn't go his way." She quieted. "I used to be like that, nasty. I think I grew out of most of it."

"Did he ever?"

Lyra grinned with pride. "Just this year he did. I was shocked when I saw him, looking everything our father was. Father is a very domineering person, a big influence in our lives. He was always so strong, so perfect. He never backed down, not really. When life finally caught up to him my brother was there, able to continue the family name."

His brow arched in question. "Your family owns a business?"

She winced at her slip up. "Sort of," she hedged. "What about you?" she hurried out, desperate to change the topic off of her. "What about your family?"

"I'm an only child. Dad died a few years back of cancer and now mum is always trying to do something to stay busy. She says dad was the only one for her. They were married twenty-eight years when he died. They were school sweethearts, they graduated together and had known each other since primary school. Dad was the only man she ever had in her life. So you can see why she enjoys taking care of Anna. It distracts her." He glanced at her. "I just realized I never learned your kids' names."

"Josephina and Danold. We call them Joey and Dan for short."

"Are you sure weird names aren't just a thing your mum has?" he teased.

"Oh, shut it," she grumbled with a grin, nudging him. Most pureblood names in general were odd, considering they had been passed down from generation to generation. Meaning they were hundreds of years old.

Her wedding ring glinted in the light, pulling her eyes to it. She bit down on her cheek, twisting it on her finger. She took a deep breath in, pulling it off. An indent from where it was remained, her skin paler than the rest of her showing what had been there. She placed it in her pocket and when she glanced back up realized Tim had been watching her the entire time.

"Ready to let it go?"

Lyra took another drink. "I need to. He made his decisions, and now he's gone. I can't allow myself to have another shadow in my life. I have enough of those already."

He smiled nice and slow, arching a brow at her.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Don't be silly, what is it?" she insisted.

He laughed, putting his hands up in mock innocence. "Nothing, I swear to you." At her look of disbelief, he said, "What? I didn't say anything!"

"I think I liked you better with scruff," she said with a bit of bite, annoyed with him. It wasn't particularly true, but he wouldn't know that.

"What's that supposed to mean?!"

She sipped on her beer casually. "Whatever you want it to mean."

He didn't say anything back to her. Lyra blinked in confusion, turning to him. The look in his eyes stopped Lyra's breath. Her hands carefully placed the beer back onto the counter.

"Do you really mean that?" he asked, his voice gruff as his eyes flashed on hers.

She stared at him, really stared at him. Tim was so different from Colin, yet certain things reminded her of him. Stubbornness. The way that their smiles transformed their faces. They both could make her laugh and forget about whatever was currently troubling her.

But they were different too. The only thing they shared physically was brown hair and eyes. But both had different shades of it. Tim was taller, non-magical. He had a daughter and a past of his own. He didn't need a story book romance, and Lyra knew for certain he wasn't going to offer to run away with her. They both had too much responsibility, and children of their own too.

Being with Tim would be taking a chance. There was no guarantee that he would take it well that Lyra was a witch and a whole world had been hidden from him. She wasn't sure if he was willing to date someone with a special needs child. Joey would be a lot of work and energy, and there was no promise that she would ever be able to be self-sufficient.

But she wanted to try.

"Yes," she whispered. His hand curled into her hair, curious and probing. Lyra's eyes remained locked with his, daring.

She didn't wait for him to kiss her. She took her fate in her own hands happily. It was a bad idea overall being with Tim. There were a lot of things that could go wrong.

But Lyra didn't mind that so much.

* * *

A/N: Only the epilogue is left! Don't forget to vote for the name of the spin-off!


	71. Chapter 71

Chapter 70: Epilogue

* * *

Transitioning to live with Tim wasn't such a struggle. Lyra had rarely used magic as it was. It was more clearing out any magical items that could do muggles harm that was the issue. The Flint home held quite a few pieces of dark magic in hidden corners. Lyra handed them over to the ministry as soon as she found them, ignoring the portrait of Aunt Beldra screeching that they were priceless heirlooms of the Flints, unable to be replaced.

No, what startled him the most was Josephina's first case of accidental magic. In a fit to get someone's attention she had changed Tim's shirt from a worn brown to a bright red. Lyra was certain before that incident that he had decided that conversation they had held was a figment of his imagination.

He had disappeared for a few weeks, telling Lyra he had to think. Lyra had been certain that would be the end of them. She tried not to be too crushed. She had children to take care of and a business to watch over. She couldn't afford to mope.

But he had come back, sheepish, with his hands tucked in his pockets and a look of boyish bashfulness. A look that made her picture what he had looked like when he was younger, fearless and bold.

Lyra had not promised him the world. She barely gave him anything at all. He didn't demand anything from her.

Only some of her time.

"I don't know if I can ever love you like I loved him," she admitted, head curled on his arm.

Lyra had told Tim about Colin, the unruly boy with the flashing camera. She had told him how she fell in love with him, and how his life had ended. She told him what she could. He didn't like to hear too much of the magical world unless necessary. It made him anxious.

"You don't need to," he whispered against her neck. "Just love me like you love me now. I need no more than that."

She twisted in the bed, staring at his nose and fighting the urge to kiss his lips. "How do you know I love you?" She had never said such a thing to him. She had been sparing with words of affection. Some part of her thought if she didn't use them it wouldn't hurt as much when he left. It was a foolish notion, but she couldn't help it. It was hard protecting herself against love when she wanted it in the first place.

He chuckled, lips pressed against the crown of her head. "I know the look a woman has when she's in love."

She smiled shyly. "So now I'm _in_ love with you?"

His arms roped around her waist, pulling her on top of him. There was no avoiding his eyes now, not with them being right in front of her. "Of course," he said haughtily, a teasing smirk on his lips.

She braced her hands on his chest. "You're being naughty," she reprimanded primly, but couldn't help the smirk that grew on her face.

"You don't deny what I said," he rebutted.

Lyra pouted, moving to a sitting position on top of his torso. "You're no fun at all."

"I'm having all the fun in the world," he grinned, eyes enamored by the blanket leisurely making its way down her chest. With a blush she pulled it back up. "Besides, my mum actually likes you. I think you're the first girlfriend I've shown her that she actually liked."

Based on what Lyra had heard of his ex-girlfriends Lyra wasn't surprised.

"She says you're a 'proper lady.' She should hear some of the things you say when you're not in public," he snorted.

"Oh hush," she grumbled, reaching over to pull a shirt on.

He shook his head in amusement. "I don't know why you insist hiding your body. I've seen everything."

Lyra gave him a light slap on the chest, glaring at him.

"You act like a proper lady now, but you weren't last night." His eyes held mirth.

"Shut it!" she screeched, grabbing her pillow to pummel him with it. She giggled, jumping off the bed and hurrying out into the hall. "I'm going to check on the girls."

Anna and Josephina shared a room, not that they needed to. There were more than enough empty rooms at the Flint home. Anna was afraid of the dark, and sleeping with Joey abated many of her fears. During the night Joey was her teddy bear. During the day Anna was Josephina's fearsome sister, willing to do anything to keep Joey happy. Anna had always wanted a little sister. She had been enthralled to learn of Josephina.

Tim's mom had too, strangely enough. She had said the more grandchildren the better. Everyone treated Lyra and Tim as if they were married. It made Lyra nervous, she didn't want to believe that if it wasn't true. It would only be harder when they parted ways.

Not that they ever could completely sever ties at this point. It would only hurt their children, and both of them were loathsome to do so. So she would be bound to watch as every new girl flitted into his life.

It sounded like some form of torture.

"You always run away!" he shouted after her. "One of these days I'm going to catch you! One day soon." He muttered the last bit, Lyra barely able to make it out.

A smile tugged at her lips and she rolled her eyes, opening the door to see both Joey and Anna up. Joey was staring at Anna as if she were constipated, and Anna was blathering about how to make a sandwich of all things. She got most of the directions correct, anyhow.

"Lyra!" Anna screeched upon seeing her. "You're here! It's so hard to wait for you and daddy to come in here."

They had made that little rule after Anna had walked in on them shagging. Thank Merlin Anna hadn't realized what they were doing. She thought they had been wresting.

Anna began speed talking, which meant Lyra had to pay close attention to understand anything at all. "Momma said she would come see me today! She said she's bringing me another teddy! It's going to be blue because that's my favorite color. Daddy says she's not going to come but I believe mummy."

She watched the little girl sadly, grabbing up Joey to change her diaper. "Perhaps she will come."

"I know she will! Daddy never believes in her but I do. Daddy says not to trust mummy. Why would he say that?"

Lyra bit down on her cheek, flinching. "Because sometimes your mummy gets busy. She loves you, but sometimes…" she trailed off, concentrating on changing Joey.

It wasn't easy to excuse what Miranda did to Anna. Lyra had met her once and held her tongue. At least the woman hadn't been catty. Miranda had stunk of booze and had cigarette burns across her clothes, the edges burned brown and holed. Tim had let her see Anna that time, but he didn't always allow it. Sometimes he didn't trust Miranda not to make a mistake. He told her she looked relatively put together that time, which had thrown Lyra off more than anything.

"Sometimes mummy forgets," Anna finished solemn.

"Yes," Lyra agreed. "Sometimes she does."

"I heard grandma and daddy talking the other day. They said mummy was going to an early grave. Why would she go to an early grave? Is she visiting grandpa?"

Lyra pulled Joey's limbs carefully through her yellow top. Miranda had already had some really close calls. Lyra had only been around for two of those instances, but Tim had said there were many others. The first time Miranda had overdosed on drugs and the muggle doctors had to pump her stomach, whatever that meant. It had saved her life in the end. The other time Miranda had acquired herself an abusive, alcoholic boyfriend. Quite the lethal mix if you asked Lyra. Miranda had called Tim in the middle of the night begging for help. Lyra hadn't asked for details.

"Whatever happens daddy will always be there for you. He loves you and will always take care of you."

"Will you be there?" she asked innocently, round eyes staring up at her.

Lyra swallowed thickly, blinking away the sheen in her eyes. "If you want me to."

"Of course I do silly," she giggled, racing over to her toy box. She threw some of the items across the room in her haste.

"Be careful," Lyra called out, pulling Joey closer. "You might hit someone."

"I found it! Daddy told me to hide it last night and give it to you in the morning." She glanced behind Lyra nervously, alerting Lyra to the person behind her.

"Daddy said that, did he?" she asked loudly, making it clear she knew he was behind her. When she turned around he was only in a pair of boxers. His arms were rocking a relatively relaxed Danold.

Anna shoved something in Lyra's hand in her distracted state. Lyra squeezed the item, blinking before opening her palm.

"What do you think about it?" Tim asked from behind her.

Her face remained unreadable, but her thoughts were racing. Some part of her hadn't expected it. A part of her wished for it and another didn't. "I don't know what to think," she said finally

The pads of his feet sounded across the wooden floors. He sat down next to her, glancing at her face anxiously.

"Why?"

"You can't say no! Daddy said you have to!"

Lyra scowled at Tim, her heart not really in it. "You used the kids to get what you wanted?"

His eyes bore into hers. "I know what I want. This is everything I need. I don't need any more time, and if you weren't so skittish you wouldn't either."

She had a lot to say about that. It wasn't so simple. They had barely known each other for two years, and lived with each other for about six months. Their feelings could change, and perhaps they'd find someone they liked better. They were both still relatively young, with their entire lives ahead of them.

But the feel of that ring in her hand felt so wonderful.

If she were truthful with herself she really wanted to marry Tim. But all of her last experiences had ended so horribly. Colin had _died_ , and her ex-husband had been arrested for being a rapist and a murderer. Everything with Tim had been so easy compared to those. She didn't fall asleep frightened every night, she didn't have to worry about hiding their relationship. He didn't have a temper she had to watch out for. It kind of felt like a dream. This relationship had been too easy. She kept waiting for something bad to rear its head, but nothing ever did. She wanted to marry him, to love him with all of her heart, but it was frightening.

Her fingers clenched around the ring. She look up into his eyes. She saw nothing was hidden in them, and sooner or later she would have to learn to completely trust him. Why should it not begin now? "Okay."

He blinked rapidly, not quite believe her. "Okay?"

Lyra nodded, showing none of the hesitance she had earlier. "Okay."

"You'll marry me?"

"I don't want a wedding," she warned. She'd had enough of one with her first. Her mother was sure to get involved with this one even if she didn't agree with Lyra's choice of a mate.

The first thing her mother had said when Lyra told her she was dating a muggle was at least Lyra got some pureblood children from her first marriage. Her father left the room whenever Tim came in, refusing to comment on him and acting, to this very day, as if Tim were a figment of Lyra's imagination.

Draco hands immediately rose to rub at his temples whenever Lyra brought him up, as if the mere mention of Tim taxed him. "Tim?" he had said the first time she told him. "Tim. You can't get more muggle than with a name like that." He had attempted to hide the distaste on his face but did not succeed.

Lyra hadn't expected much more than that. It was tame for a Malfoy reaction. Now if only she could get Tim to understand that her family hating him wasn't his fault. It was hard explaining pureblood ideals to a non-traditionalist witch or wizard, let alone a muggle.

"We can elope then," he said with a grin, wrapping his arms around her and burrowing into her neck. His eyes darted up to hers, the only thing she could see. "We could have more children."

Lyra shoved him off, balancing Joey on her hip. "Whoa! Moving too fast mister!" Three was enough, as little as they were.

"Okay, okay! I'm parking it," he laughed, backing up. Lyra grinned, learning the meaning of that muggle saying recently. He had to actually drive her in a car to get it.

"But I want more sisters!" Anna screeched, jumping up and down.

Lyra glared at her fiancé. "Timothy, look what you've done," she said in a monotonous voice.

"The kids are my best asset! She knows what to say for daddy, don't you?" Anna giggled, racing over to her father and jumping up into his arms. He caught her easily, adjusting Danold with his other.

It really wasn't fair when he did things like that. He knew what it did to her to see him with the kids.

"Lyra Druella Malfoy!" Tim began officially. "Even though your middle name is weird, and your parents have some fetish I can't understand, I would like to take you as my wife. Do you accept?"

Lyra blinked owlishly. "I don't think it's supposed to go that way."

"Just say yes woman!" he demanded, stepping closer and taking the ring from her. He placed it on the edge of her finger, waiting.

"Say yes! Say yes! Say yes!" Anna chanted, Danold staring at the bubbly girl with large eyes, unsure what to make of her. The excitement spread to Joey and she began screaming along with Anna. Not that Joey was saying any words, but she got her point across just the same.

"Of course I'm saying yes. I already did, didn't I," Lyra teased.

"Yay! I have to call grandma and tell her. She made me promise I would." She squirmed out of Tim's arms, chunking down the steps.

"Did everyone know about this but me?" Lyra asked rhetorically.

Tim wrapped his free arm around her neck, bringing her in for a slow, heated kiss. His hand trailed down until it reached hers, sliding the golden band on. "I love you Mrs. Williams."

She placed a light kiss on his lips, rubbing her nose against his. It was times like this when the shadows disappeared, when everything felt right and all the doubts were purged from her mind. She deserved happiness too, after all. It was about time she took it. "I love you too."

* * *

A/N: And there's the final chapter! It's been more than a year since posting the first chapter so this took quite a while. I'd like to thank everyone who ever supported this story, all my readers, reviewers, and followers. I really am grateful for all the attention and time you all invested into this story. The first chapter to the spin-off 'The Misunderstandings of Joey Flint' has been posted! Thank you all, once again, especially the particularly dedicated readers. You all know who you are.


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